DISCLAIMER: Highlander the Series is property of Rysher Entertainment. The characters Duncan MacLeod, Adam Pierson/Methos, Joe Dawson, and Richie Ryan are used without permission, but with great reverence. The other characters and the story itself belong to Jennifer Allen, copyright 1997. 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, then sit back and enjoy the ride.
TIMELINE: The events occur during Highlander's fifth season hiatus, as that's were we are when I started writing this. Richie has left Seacouver after "the other Methos" was killed by William Culbreath, and Methos is hanging around being Methos. They also occur after the trilogy I wrote (Consequences, Accusations, and Retaliation), which is why the calendar year is 1997 instead of 1996. You don't need to read those stories to understand this one, but JL and Bryan are introduced in those stories, and the relationships will make more sense if you do. My trilogy is also the source of any comments made about going to Peru, or about the Immortals Lucas Buck and Alaric Sutkin. 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 1997. JL closed the ledger book with a satisfying thump and leaned back in her chair, trying to stretch the kinks out of her neck and shoulders. It had been a long week, but getting Joe to spend Thanksgiving with his niece, Lynn Horton, had been worth it. Joe warned me that running the bar would be a lot harder than I anticipated, she thought with a sigh. Unfortunately, he was right. As usual. But it's 5:30 Monday morning, Joe's plane lands in less than seven hours, and all I have to do is stay awake long enough to pick him up at the airport. Pushing back from the table, JL grabbed her coffee cup and walked over to the bar. Dubiously eyeing the substance that had been coffee a few hours ago, she shrugged and poured half a cup, thinning it out with a healthy dose of Irish whiskey. Lifting her cup to the silent assemblage of tables, chairs, and bottles surrounding her, she grinned. "I have survived," she announced to them triumphantly. "No matter what anyone says, I have survived. With seven hours to spare, the books are balanced, the joint is clean, tonight's band is booked, and I've even replaced the table, chairs, and glassware that got caught up in the 'animated discussion' that Vaughn, Travis, and Cindy had the other night. The only thing left to do is figure out how in God's name I'm going to stay awake until 12:14 when Joe's plane lands." Taking a sip of coffee, JL grimaced and decided that the first order of business was to go somewhere that had fresh coffee. Pulling on her coat, she walked outside and locked the door behind her. It's definitely winter, she thought glumly as she pulled her collar closer around her neck. There's a cold wind and lots of rain. At least in summer it's a warmer wind and lots of rain. Unlocking her Mustang with the remote control, JL dashed out to her car and started the engine. She toyed with the idea of going home and taking a nap, but she knew if she closed her eyes, she wouldn't have a prayer of making it to the airport in time. With a heartfelt sigh, she headed over to an all-night diner where she hoped that Steve, the night shift's chief cook and bottle washer, would be as bored as she was and eager to kill a few hours catching JL up on the neighborhood gossip. True to form, he easily kept her amused until he got off work at 7 a.m., but JL couldn't persuade him to stay and keep her company any longer than that.
Five and half more hours, she thought as Steve left, struggling to keep her eyes open and her head off the counter. I've got to come up with some way to stay awake. Colin is snug in his bed, Methos is a royal grouch if you wake him up, and even Duncan isn't this early a riser, especially since Karen has been giving him a reason to stay in bed. When did I hear Joe say she went to work? Eight o'clock, I think. That's only an hour--maybe I can go over to the dojo and do some stretches until he gets up. If I stay downstairs he won't feel my presence so I won't bother him until he's had his coffee. Better yet, maybe I'll just curl up on one of his exercise mats with a note taped to my forehead that says 'Please make sure I'm awake by 11:30 a.m. or Joe will be stranded at the airport.' Now there's an idea. Maybe he'll be so moved by pity that he'll leave me in my corner and he'll go to the airport. Turning the corner a couple of blocks from the dojo, JL shook her head and laughed softly to herself. More than likely, though, he'll just throw cold water on me and make me join him for a practice session or his morning run. Considering the weather I'd really prefer the practice session, but Duncan can be fanatical about running sometimes. I've really got to find a teacher who appreciates the needs of a dedicated night-owl. Even Jim and Bryan were morning people compared to me. Maybe I can study with Amanda for a while. Now there's a person who appreciates the benefits of being out and about after the rest of the world has gone to bed.
As she parked next to the dojo, her headlights illuminated a familiar dark blue van across the street. She studied it curiously, wondering why someone was Watching Duncan at this hour. Shutting off the engine, she turned her collar back up to ward off the rain and sprinted over to the van. She knocked on the back door, turning the handle cautiously when she didn't get an answer. The door was unlocked, but the van was empty. Climbing in, she found a cold cup of coffee and a plastic box containing a half-eaten salad on the dashboard, a completed crossword puzzle tossed carelessly on the floor, and her top-of-the-line Nikon camera lying on the passenger seat. Picking up the camera, JL scowled angrily. Justin, you are going to regret leaving my camera in plain sight in an unlocked car, she vowed. She cost me a fortune, and you promised you'd treat her with more respect than you do me. I swear, if someone had stolen this camera, even the fact that you named your daughter after me wouldn't have been enough to save you.
Putting the camera's strap around her neck and tucking it carefully into her coat, she got out of the van and went to find Justin so she could discuss proper camera-security measures with him. The gloom had lightened slightly with the rising sun, but she had to get her flashlight from the car to see anything that wasn't near a streetlight. She whistled softly as she walked so she wouldn't startle Justin--the last time she'd done that he'd almost broken her arm when he grabbed her and shoved her against the nearest wall. Justin didn't answer her whistle though, so she kept walking toward Duncan's building and cautiously entered the alley. Light streamed from the loft windows where Karen was presumably getting ready for work and Duncan was making breakfast, so JL kept her flashlight pointed downwards to avoid attracting attention.
Under the fire escape, her flashlight reflected off something metallic. Leaning down, she recognized the piece of metal as a Celtic ponytail holder still neatly wrapped around a short, dark ponytail. The flashlight beam bobbled as her hand trembled, its uncaring beam revealing the ragged stump that had once been a neck. Fighting desperately to remain calm, JL prayed she was wrong and slowly lifted the head so she could see the man's face. His eyes were closed and mud obscured the half that had been lying on the ground, but JL recognized him instantly. "Justin," she whispered, falling to her knees and cradling the head in her arms. "Justin. Who did this to you?"
Heedless of the mud soaking through her jeans, JL rocked slowly, no longer seeing Justin's head in her arms. Instead, she was back in San Francisco in 1985, meeting Justin for the first time when he came to visit Bryan Cutler, who had been Justin's commanding officer in Vietnam. She remembered sitting across from him in Jim and Bryan's solarium, fascinated by his war stories. He told her about the day he'd learned about Immortality--he had been wounded in the leg and Bryan had carried him to a foxhole to perform some first aid and wait until darkness to work their way back to their own lines. They had both thought they were going to make it when a hand grenade landed in the foxhole with them. Justin still looked amazed when he told her how Bryan hadn't even hesitated before throwing himself on the grenade and shielding Justin from the explosion. The force of the blast had thrown Bryan's body on top of Justin, so when the Viet Cong had come to check the results, they had assumed that both men were dead. Justin had been so shocked that he had barely reacted when Bryan had started breathing again a couple of hours later and carried him to a MASH unit. When Justin had recovered, Bryan had explained how he had managed to survive having his guts splattered over the inside of the foxhole. By this time, Jim and Bryan had told JL of their Immortality as well, so she could talk freely to Justin about his feelings on the subject. She didn't mention the Watchers, though, until four years later when she was certain that she could tell him without his immediately telling Jim and Bryan. She had submitted his name to the Tribunal for consideration, and they had agreed that she could try approaching him. She smiled fondly as she remembered his childlike glee at being invited to join the Watchers--when she'd picked on him about it, he admitted that he'd always wanted to be part of the "cool table" in his high school lunchroom but couldn't figure out how to get in. Being with the Watchers was like being part of a special clique, and he loved it. The Tribunal agreed to let JL give Justin his basic training, and they started spending all of Justin's free time together. JL had told Jim and Bryan that she was a freelance photographer, so she told them that she was giving Justin photography lessons. Which was partially true, as photographing one's subject was an important part of a Watcher's job.
JL shifted as the rain began to seep under her collar and run down her back, but her mind was still lost in the past. She remembered taking Justin to a Watcher party in 1991, only to have him abandon her so he could dance all night with a Watcher named Colleen. They glided around the dance floor as if they'd known each other for years, then the scene shifted suddenly in JL's memory and they were dancing their first dance as husband and wife. JL was standing next to Bryan, as uncomfortable in her Maid of Honor finery as he was elegant in his Best Man tuxedo. Bryan's arm slid around her waist, and she settled back into his arms with a sigh. It was 1993, and she had been Watching an Immortal named Lucas Buck for over two years now. Justin's wedding was a welcome break from observing Lucas' evil hobbies, but she still felt a twinge of jealousy as Justin and Colleen danced. She'd broken up with Adam Pierson when she'd taken the Lucas Buck assignment, and she still missed his cynical observations now and again. Adam had met Justin when JL had begun training him in San Francisco, but, if Justin had invited him to the wedding, he had declined to come.
In her memory, Justin suddenly turned away from Colleen and approached smiling proudly, showing JL a carefully wrapped bundle. "Look, JL," he said. "Isn't she gorgeous? Just like her mama. And her twin brother is equally dashing." Rocking the baby gently, Justin glanced up at her shyly. "We even have the perfect names for them. We're going to call them Joanna Lynn and Bryan James. That is, if you don't mind."
"Mind?" JL whispered incredulously. "Why would I mind?" Hugging both father and daughter, JL felt tears sliding down her cheeks. "No one ever offered to name their baby after me before. Of course I don't mind."
Justin offered her the baby, laughing when JL declined to hold her with a panic-stricken expression. "It's OK, JL," he told her. "Not everyone is cut out for motherhood. But if it weren't for Bryan, I wouldn't have met you, and if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have met Colleen. Then this precious little girl and her brother wouldn't be here. So it's only fitting they should be named after the people who made them possible." Kissing his daughter gently on the forehead, Justin laid her back in her crib and offered Bryan James for JL's inspection. "They're going to be Watchers, too, you just wait and see. It's going to be a grand family tradition."
As the rain soaked through the last dry spot in her coat, JL felt a sudden wave of nausea. She clutched Justin's head a little tighter, willing the sickness to pass. Part of her mind urged her to get up and be ready to defend herself in case Justin's attacker came back, but the thought seemed to come from a great distance and she couldn't bring herself to really care. Justin's memory smiled at her again, inviting her to relive his joy when she'd discovered that she was an Immortal as well as a Watcher. He'd acted as though she deserved such an honor--in fact, he'd been more excited about it than she had. He'd even offered to give up co-Watching Richie with Colleen so he could Watch her, but she'd laughed and pointed out that she couldn't influence assignments anymore. His expression had been so crestfallen that she'd told him she was planning to move in with Richie, at least for a while, so Watching Richie would be just like Watching her. It had worked that way, too, for about six months. Then she and Richie had drifted apart and she'd gotten her own apartment. Justin had seen the signs before JL had, and he'd had a great apartment all lined up for her when she finally realized that she and Richie weren't going to be the next Jim and Bryan. Or even the next Duncan and Amanda, for that matter.
She remembered sitting next to Justin on the steps of her new apartment. He had one arm around her waist and she had her head on his shoulder while little Joanna and Bryan, now more than three years old, investigated each crack in the sidewalk with amazing intensity. "Are you all right, JL?" he had asked softly.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she had replied with a sigh. "I knew it wasn't going to last forever like Jim and Bryan will. Granted, I thought we'd make it longer than six months, but it's probably better this way. As it stands now, we're still friends. If I'd tried to force myself on him much longer, we'd probably end up challenging one another."
Justin had snorted and held her close. "You know what your problem is, little one?" he had said. "You still love Pierson. I can tell. And he's not good enough for you."
JL was about to protest when a hand clasped her shoulder and she felt someone kneel down next to her. Still uncertain if this was real or just another memory, she tried to shrug the hand off and was disappointed when it wouldn't go away. A softly accented voice spoke in her ear, but her mind was too numb to process the words. The voice was rather pleasant, though, so she didn't try to interrupt him until he went to remove the head from her lap. She tried to hold it closer, but the cold had stiffened her fingers and he worked it gently out of her hands. She gazed unseeingly at her empty lap, then felt herself being picked up and carried like a child. Duncan, she thought numbly. It must be Duncan. She wanted to struggle and go back to Justin, but her body began trembling and all she could do was bury her head in Duncan's shoulder and cry. She hated herself for being so weak and emotional, especially in front of someone whose respect she had worked very hard to earn. He's going to think I'm a fool, she thought despairingly. Kneeling in the mud crying like a baby. What kind of warrior acts like that? And what kind of warrior lets someone walk up behind them when they should have felt them coming? Oh, God, Justin. This is my fault, isn't it? If I hadn't gotten you involved in the Watchers, you'd be home with Colleen and the kids right now. Please forgive me, old friend. I never meant for this to happen to you. Never. She felt Duncan set her down and remove her coat and sword. He was still talking softly, although he no longer waited for a response. He wrapped her in a blanket and propped her up against the arm of the couch, returning in a few minutes with half a cup of hot coffee. Gently bending her fingers around the cup, he urged her to drink it. She managed a small sip, using both hands to steady the cup. Really seeing him for the first time, she tried to smile, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause.
"JL?" Duncan said softly. "Are you all right? Can you tell me what happened?"
"No," she whispered. "It doesn't make any sense."
Duncan nodded. "Who should I call, JL?" he asked. "Methos? One of your Watcher friends?"
JL just shook her head numbly. "I don't know. I wish Joe..." Choking back another sob, she shivered and looked away.
Duncan pulled the blanket tighter around her and said, "I'll call Methos. He'll at least know who you'd want me to call."
JL watched him walk over to the phone, then noticed her new scimitar lying on the coffee table. She remembered how Jim and Bryan had given it to her after hers had burned in a car crash last March. It had truly been a group effort--Bryan had forged the blade, Jim had cast the brass crossguard in the traditional elongated-diamond shape, and Justin had carved the mahogany hilt. Her vision blurred again as she remembered them presenting it to her, and how proud Justin had been at being included in such a project. He'd added the intertwined horse symbol that represented the Celtic goddess Epona, apologizing for mixing cultures but insisting that she shouldn't turn down any kind of protection she could get. "Besides," he'd rationalized over a glass of Irish whiskey at Joe's, "I love the design. So you're stuck with it."
Duncan was gratefully surprised that Methos answered the phone on the second ring. "Methos," he said, "it's Duncan. I need you to get over here and help me with JL. She's..." Glancing at the couch, he saw JL staring vacantly at her sword. The coffee cup fell out of her suddenly nerveless fingers, the hot liquid making fiery streaks on her cold hands, but she didn't even blink. "Just get over here now," he said quickly. "I'll explain later." Hanging up, he decided that he needed a more drastic way of getting her attention. Unwrapping the blanket, he picked her back up and carried her into the bathroom. Pausing only to take off his shoes, he stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water, thankful that Karen had already left for work and wouldn't be walking in on this particular scene.
JL was jolted back to reality by the stream of cold water coursing down her back. Sputtering, she pushed away from Duncan until he set her back on her feet, but her legs refused to hold her and she had to rest most of her weight against his chest. He let her lean against him, steadying her with one hand while turning on the hot water with the other. JL waited until the stiffness worked its way out of her legs, then she finally faced the spray and let the water course over her face and chest until she stopped shivering. Turning off the water, she leaned against the tile until it occurred to her that Duncan was still standing patiently behind her, waiting for an explanation. Turning back around slowly, she looked at him standing there, still fully clothed and dripping wet. Dropping her eyes, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Mac. You must think I'm a complete idiot."
Duncan stepped forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I think you're acting like someone who just lost a very good friend. As I recently told Richie, it's when we stop being hurt by such things that we have to worry. Now that you've warmed up, let's get you dried off." Leaning out of the shower, Duncan grabbed the towel hanging nearby. Politely holding it up and averting his eyes, he waited until she had shed her clothes before wrapping her in the towel. "Fortunately, Amanda loves these huge, fluffy towels. They're practically blanket-sized. Now if you would be so kind as to toss me one from that closet, I can dry off and find you some sweats."
JL nodded and stepped out of the shower. Handing Duncan a towel, she leaned against the wall and gazed absently at him. Starting slightly when he cleared his throat, she sighed and turned her back. "It's not like I haven't seen it before, Mac," she said with a spark of her usual humor. "Remember Peru? They had you quite prettily chained to that wall for everyone to admire."
Duncan grumbled something, then they both straightened when they felt the presence of another Immortal. "If that's Amanda," JL commented, "I'm going out the window while you explain this."
Duncan laughed. "If that's Amanda, I'm going out the window myself. But it's probably Methos," he assured her. "I called him when we came back upstairs, remember? He must have actually listened when I said it was important and hurried."
The door opened and closed, then Methos' voice echoed through the loft. "Mac?" he called. "JL? Where are you guys? Where's the fire?"
JL slipped out the bathroom door and flung herself into his arms. He caught her with a look of surprise, his eyes widening even further when Duncan emerged from the bathroom and Methos saw their matching towels. "Pardon me," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Did I interrupt something? I thought you said you needed my help."
Duncan nodded. "We do. Someone died outside my dojo last night. He was beheaded, but I didn't feel a Quickening."
Disengaging herself, JL curled up on the couch. "It was a Watcher," she said softly. "Justin Waldron."
"Justin?" Methos asked in surprise. "Your protégé? Who would want to behead him? He wasn't one of us."
JL shrugged. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here. I'd be cutting whoever it was into little, tiny pieces and serving them en brochette." Staring at her scimitar still lying on the coffee table, she shivered. "I don't even know why he was out there all night," she admitted. "Have you heard anything?"
"No." Methos sat down next to her and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, JL," he said softly into her hair. "I know how much you liked him."
"Yeah," she mumbled back. "Bryan too. I should call him...Oh, God, Colleen. I have to call Colleen."
"Later," Methos replied, holding her tightly while she fought off another round of tears. He glanced significantly up at Duncan, who nodded in silent understanding and laid a pair of sweats on the coffee table before pouring her a glass of brandy. When she had herself back under control, JL thanked him and sipped the drink, then stood up and traded the towel for the sweats. Duncan turned politely away from her, but Methos studied her body unabashedly. She'd been an Immortal for almost two years now, and had spent much of that time in an intensive training regimen so she'd have the chance to keep up with the older players in the Game. Her muscles had filled out nicely and she'd picked up a little weight. Methos had always regarded her as too thin and was constantly badgering her to eat a balanced diet, and he was glad to see she had been. I wonder if her stamina has improved as well, he thought idly. She always claimed she couldn't keep up with me, but she seemed to keep Richie happy. For a while anyway. I'll have to ask Mac what happened to them- -she'll never tell me the truth.
JL pulled the sweatshirt over her head and looked at Methos. "Quit staring," she told him with a toss of her hair.
"Quit getting undressed in public," he responded promptly. "Besides, I've seen it all before anyway."
JL and Duncan burst out laughing, and Methos looked at them curiously. "Forget it," Duncan told him. "You had to be there."
"Apparently," he agreed. "Shall I call Colleen?"
JL shook her head slowly, glancing at the door. "Not yet. I need to investigate it a little more. Examine the scene. Try to..." JL's voice broke slightly and she hugged herself tightly. "She's going to ask why," she continued softly. "And who." Picking up her camera, she checked it automatically, making sure the rain hadn't gotten into the case. By the time she was done, Duncan had started a pot of coffee and was putting on his shoes. JL looked at her own mud-soaked sneakers distastefully, deciding it would be just as effective to go barefoot.
Methos walked up behind her and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I can take care of this, JL," he offered. "I've investigated a few deaths in my time."
"Can you lift fingerprints?" she asked. "Do you know the proper series of photos to take to get the crime scene from all angles? Do you know how to search without destroying potential evidence like I probably did when I moved Jus...Justin's head?" Angrily wiping away a tear, JL managed a small smile. "I appreciate the offer, Methos, I really do. But I was a private investigator in Los Angeles, and I learned how to do all of this stuff. We've got to get everything we need from the scene before we call the police, because we may not have access to their investigation." Pausing long enough to accept the cup of coffee Duncan handed her, JL nodded her thanks and cradled the warm cup in her hands. "Besides," she said firmly, "I owe it to Justin. Come on, let's get going before someone else finds him and calls the real detectives."
Methos nodded and followed her to the elevator. Duncan joined them, closing the wooden gate and pressing the Down button. As they descended, JL looked at Methos. "Why is Duncan at DefCon 3?"
"What's DefCon 3?" Duncan interjected.
JL grinned. "It's Watcher shorthand that we stole from the military. DefCon 5 means the Immortal is basically out of the Game--avoiding other Immortals, living on holy ground, whatever. They only get Watched a couple of times a day, if that. DefCon 4 is the normal state of affairs--the Immortal is active but there aren't any Challenges looming on the horizon. Generally you Watch such an Immortal during the day, but go home to bed when they do. DefCon 3 means you expect your Immortal to get into a fight relatively soon, and you need to keep them under 24-hour surveillance so you don't miss it." Pausing while Duncan lifted the downstairs gate, JL smiled wryly. "That's as high as you can go with the Tribunal's blessing. DefCon 2 is when you're friends with the Immortal and you give him information at his request. You still don't volunteer anything, though, and you certainly don't help him directly. DefCon 1 is total involvement, possibly even to the point of taking action against another Immortal. It's a very dangerous state to try and live with. It takes constant negotiation on both sides, and is, as you recently learned, punishable by death."
Methos grinned. "It also takes a serious capacity for abuse and a tolerance for frantic phone calls at ungodly hours."
JL nodded agreement but Duncan shook his head. "8:30 is not ungodly," he insisted. "It's the best time of the day."
Both Methos and JL snorted derisively, and Duncan sighed. "So why am I at DefCon 3?"
"What? Oh, yeah, that was the original question, wasn't it?" Methos replied "I'm not sure, actually, but I can check."
As they entered the alley, JL grew quiet and began professionally assessing the scene. The rain had washed away any obvious clues, but she steeled herself and carefully replaced Justin's head where she had found it and began taking pictures. Methos studied the scene from a distance, trying to get an idea of where Justin and his assailant had been standing. Duncan checked the rest of the building and the parking lot, looking for anything unusual or missing. When he returned to the alley, Methos was examining Justin's head and measuring the distance between it and the body. Shaking his head, Methos examined Justin's hands, looking for evidence of a struggle.
They were almost finished when a car drove up and parked behind Justin's van. Duncan saw a very tall man with graying black hair emerge from the car and stretch before he knocked at the door of the van. Duncan remembered seeing him in Joe's bar, but they'd never been introduced. JL looked up and whistled, and the man looked at her with surprise.
"You guys remember to call me Adam Pierson," Methos said quietly as the man started towards them. "I'm not ready to come out of my nice, safe closet quite yet."
Walking across the street, the man gave JL a stern look. "Don't you know I'm supposed to be invisible?" he chided her with the ease of long familiarity. "Blend right into the background? Not get whistled at by my assignment."
JL gazed up at his 6' 8" frame and laughed. "Invisible? You? Mistaken for a tree, maybe, but not invisible." Growing serious, JL glanced at the alley. The man followed her gaze, then moved past her and strode over to Justin's body. He examined it silently, careful not to disturb anything. Reaching out, he gently lifted one of Justin's hands, then came back to the others.
"This sucks," he announced. "Justin deserved to watch his twins grow up." Looking at JL, he shook his head. "Have you called Colleen?"
"Not yet. What do you make of the scene?"
The man sighed. "Not much. Cause of death is glaringly obvious, but the reason he went down without a struggle isn't."
"Are you sure he didn't fight?" JL asked.
The man nodded and walked over to the body. "Look at the mud. You can still see the impression of his knees where he knelt right there. Yet there's no sign of anyone else except for these prints, here," he continued, pointing to the ones JL had made when she had found Justin's body. "And these aren't fresh but they're more recent than Justin's." Measuring the prints against his hand, he glanced at JL's ill-fitting sweats and tapped her knee with his forefinger. "I'd say you made them when you found him."
"Impressive," Duncan said quietly from behind JL.
JL and the man both glanced at Duncan, and JL smiled. "I believe that's Duncan's subtle way of requesting an introduction," she commented. At the man's nod, JL continued. "Duncan, this is Colin Jamison, formerly of the Boston Police Department. Colin's the one who made it his personal project to get me off the streets, help me stop taking heroin, and convince me to move in with Joe. All in all, a rather minor player in my life. And, just to prove that he's a glutton for punishment, now he's my Watcher, too."
"I've seen you at Joe's," Duncan confirmed, shaking Colin's hand. "Oh, wait, I'm not supposed to admit that, am I?"
Colin smiled back. "It's OK. I'm used to being seen. That's why I Watch pip-squeak here." Ducking JL's punch, Colin winked at Duncan. "She's the only one who can successfully ignore me trailing after her. Been ignoring me since 1973, in fact."
"What now?" Duncan asked. "I assume calling the police isn't an option."
"Actually, it's our best option," Colin replied. "I know a couple of discreet people on the force. I'll call them and then go over to Colleen's."
"Do you want me to go with you?" JL asked reluctantly.
"No," Colin replied, giving JL's shoulder a squeeze. "I've had to do this before--even had psych courses in it back in Boston. You can stay here and talk to the cops with Adam. You did find the body, after all, and you need to tell them whose knee prints those are."
"Joy. What if they realize we delayed a couple of hours before calling them?" JL glanced back at Justin's body and sighed. "What if they send someone who's not discreet?"
"Relax, JL," Colin reassured her. "I'll check our list of contacts and call it in."
"Colin, wait," JL called. "Why is Mac at DefCon 3?"
Colin glanced neutrally at her and shook his head. "I can't tell you that, JL, and you know it. Ask Pierson to find out for you. He has less to lose."
"And that means what, exactly?" Methos asked him.
"It means I saw the front seat of Bryan's Jaguar after you and Richie were kidnapped by Aurelia's gang last March," Colin said slowly. "And there were enough bullet holes in that car to convince me that a firing squad doesn't have the same effect on you that it would on me. So you're welcome to go to DefCon 2 if you want, but I'm taking the ethical high ground as long as I can." Turning back to JL, Colin smiled encouragingly. "I'll be in touch, JL. If the cops give you any trouble, call me at Colleen's."
"Which translates into whatever's going on, it hasn't been 100% confirmed or he'd have told us," JL said as Colin drove off.
Methos glanced at her. "Are you sure? He didn't seem particularly friendly today."
"You're just miffed because when I told you he knew you were an Immortal, you didn't believe me. You got lucky with Kristen--her Watcher wasn't there and the kill was attributed to Duncan. But if you're going to get back in the Game, people are going to notice."
Methos sighed. "I suppose. Maybe by that time, it won't be such a big deal."
"Maybe," JL agreed. "It would be nice. I liked being a Watcher and prying into other people's affairs. They were always so much more interesting than my own."
"And so much less stressful," Methos agreed with a laugh. "I'll put out some feelers. When's Joe due back?"
"Joe!" JL exclaimed, looking for her watch. "What time is it?"
"Quarter to eleven," Duncan replied.
"His plane lands at 12:14. I'd better go home and change." JL searched her pockets frantically, looking for her keys.
Duncan caught her hand gently. "Your keys are still upstairs with your clothes," he reminded her. "I'll go get him. I'd rather do that than answer the policemen's questions, anyway. Besides, I saw even less than you did. Southwest?"
"US Air," JL replied absently. "Flight 109 from Boston via Pittsburgh."
"Got it. I'll fill him in on the way back. Where will you be?"
"Asleep," Methos said firmly. "Even if I have to sedate her. Tell Joe we'll call him." Raising a hand to forestall JL's complaints, Methos shook his head. "I know you haven't slept for more than six hours any night this week, and you look like hell. We'll talk to the cops and go back to your place. You can't help find Justin's killer if you're too tired to see straight."
JL sighed. "I don't know how you expect me to sleep now. I'll just see his head lying there in the mud."
"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Methos promised. "I'll even give you one of my patented massages. And if that doesn't work, I'll pull out one of Darius' tea recipes. I'm sure you have all the necessary components growing in your shower."
"You mean you'll poison me," JL retorted.
"You'll get over it," Methos replied calmly. "But you're going to need your wits about you if you're going to help me solve this thing."
"Help you? You mean you're actually getting involved?" JL asked in surprise.
Methos nodded. "Things are better with the Watchers, but they're not perfect. And if Colin, you, and I start investigating it, maybe the Tribunal will be willing to let us work on it instead of sending some by-the-book bureaucrat. We need to solve this and do it fast before the accusations start flying again."
"Amen to that," Duncan agreed. "Especially considering that he was killed under my window."
"Did you know he was there?" JL asked.
Duncan nodded. "Yes. Well, I was fairly sure, anyway. Yesterday Karen mentioned seeing a dark-haired man get out of a blue van, empty a thermos, and walk around for a bit before getting back in the van. I walked past to see if he was an Immortal and recognized him as one of Joe's poker buddies. I just assumed he was Watching me during Joe's vacation. I didn't ask him directly because I didn't want to get him into trouble." With a small shrug, Duncan turned back to Methos. "Thanks for the help, Methos," he said. "I'll go to the airport. Lock up when you leave, all right?" Giving JL one last sympathetic hug, Duncan got into his T-Bird and drove off.
JL watched him leave with a sigh. Methos put his arms around her, and she nestled into him silently until the police arrived. She moved off with the detectives and told them what she little she knew, only omitting the fact that they'd just investigated the scene themselves. When she got back to Methos, he was trying to find a gentle way of breaking the news to Bryan over the phone. When he was finished, JL took the phone and shared condolences with Bryan herself, promising to meet him at Joe's bar that evening. Closing the phone, she slid it back into Methos' pocket and shivered. "It's cold out here," she commented.
"That couldn't be due to someone's bare feet, now could it?" Methos asked innocently. "Come on inside. You can take a hot shower, thumb your nose at the pneumonia that would probably love to take root in your lungs, and I'll take you home. I take it Bryan's flying up here?"
"Yes. Bryan and Justin became very close after doing four tours together in Vietnam. Justin didn't have any family of his own, and Bryan was more than happy to adopt him the same way he adopted me." JL rested her head on Methos' shoulder. "You know Bryan," she said softly. "He never could resist a stray. Especially one who watched him recover from falling on top of a hand grenade. You weren't there, but Bryan was the best man at Justin's wedding, and he's baby- sat for the twins more than once."
Methos nodded. "He always was good with kids as long as he can walk away when he's had enough. This is a horrible thing to say, but I'm glad he's got something to keep his mind off Jim. I hate it when he mopes. Not only is it unpleasant-- it's dangerous. I guarantee you that Bryan will take at least one head before he and Jim reconcile."
"What about Jim?" JL asked. "I bet he won't take any."
"Read their Chronicles again, little one," Methos replied with a snort. "He'll take at least two. He just won't mope between times. At least, not visibly. Jim mopes inside, and that's not good either. No, it's better for all concerned when those two expend their energy on each other. Unfortunately, nothing anyone can say will help. They'll just wake up one morning, move back in together, and that will be that. Peace will be restored."
JL laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Grates on your nerves, doesn't it?" she taunted. "None of your clever ploys or a propos stories work on them because they know them all."
"Hush. Or I'll make the tea before I try the massage."
JL smiled evilly but stayed silent, unwilling to give up a massage for the rat poison everyone knew that Darius had called tea.
JL surprised herself by managing to get almost six hours of sleep before Justin's death invaded her dreams and woke her up. She untangled herself from the sheets and looked around blearily, not sure where she was or how she'd gotten there. The subconscious hum of another Immortal filled her mind, and she almost called out Richie's name before she remembered what had happened that morning. Getting up, she peeked out her bedroom door to find Methos curled up on the couch with a beer and the newspaper. Strangely pleased to find him still there, she slipped back into the bedroom and took a shower. Pulling on jeans, a T-shirt, and her favorite sweatshirt, she wandered out into the living room still combing her hair to find Methos arranging Chinese take-out on two plates. "Hungry?" he asked her cheerfully, handing her a plate of fried rice, an egg roll, and cashew chicken without waiting for an answer. "I ordered sake, too."
"Isn't that Japanese?" JL asked, watching him take the ceramic sake pitcher out of the microwave and carefully pour two cups.
Methos shrugged. "Technically, but it's good, so why quibble?"
"I'm not," JL replied, sipping the hot rice wine. "Did you talk to Joe?"
"Yes. He went over to Colleen's, but he said he'll open the bar tonight. He also said you don't need to work tonight if you're not up to it."
"I'm up to it," JL replied, nibbling at her chicken, "but I'd rather work on the investigation. We should probably start with Justin's files. Maybe he annoyed someone and this wasn't a random murder."
"Beheading isn't the way most random criminals go, JL," Methos pointed out gently. "Besides, everyone liked Justin."
"True," JL agreed with a sigh. "But it would be so much less complicated than I have a feeling this is going to be. I'm afraid this is going to stir things up between Immortals and Watchers again."
Methos studied her for a minute, then he reached over and took her hand. "This isn't your fault, JL," he said softly. "It wasn't anything you failed to teach him, or anything you taught him incorrectly, that got him killed."
JL looked startled and a little guilty. "Will you quit reading my mind?" she grumbled.
"It's natural, JL. Every teacher feels that way when they lose a student, but you have to let go. Eventually, the student has to sink or swim on his own merits."
JL squeezed his hand then picked up her sake. "But if I hadn't gotten him into the Watchers..."
"He wouldn't have met Colleen, or had twins, or had all the great times you, he, Jim, and Bryan had in San Francisco. And he still might have died young. There are no guarantees, JL. That's the only constant in the universe."
"Richie said you didn't do profound, oh wise and ancient one," JL teased him.
Methos laughed. "Once in a great while, just to keep people off balance. But never on command. That would be too predictable."
"OK," JL replied agreeably. "You do spontaneous profundity. Got it."
"And people wonder why we broke up," Methos groused. "You're constantly picking on me."
JL arched an eyebrow. "As I remember it, we broke up because you were a royal pain about my taking the Lucas Buck assignment."
"That too," Methos acceded. "But you came through it with flying colors, so I will hereby admit that I overestimated Lucas' attention to detail."
JL stared at him quizzically. "Um, was that an apology?"
"Sure," Methos said airily. "More sake?"
Laughing, JL accepted another cup and clinked glasses with him, spilling a little of the hot wine when the phone's sudden ringing startled them both. Setting down her cup, she idly wiped her hand on her jeans and picked up the phone. "Dawson," she said into the receiver.
"Cutler," Bryan's familiar voice responded. "I'm at Joe's."
"We'll be there in an hour," JL promised.
"Be drunk by then," Bryan replied.
"Me, too," JL responded with a chuckle. "Methos bought sake."
"Good. I hate getting drunk alone. Bring Methos along. We'll get him drunk, too."
"Will do. Bye, Bryan."
"Bye."
JL hung up and grinned at Methos. "Bryan wants us to get drunk with him. Shall I get out your grass skirt?"
Methos groaned. "Oh, God. Drunk for Bryan means alcohol-poisoned for anyone else. He's got a capacity that's the envy of every Irishman he's ever drunk with."
"So we'll have Joe water our drinks. Or triple Bryan's. Be brave, my friend. We shall survive."
Shaking his head, Methos just sighed and dug into his dinner. When they'd finished and rinsed the dishes, they drove to Joe's bar. Opening the door, they felt the buzz and spotted Bryan sitting near the stage listening to the band with a half empty bottle of Irish whiskey sitting in front of him. He glanced up as they came in, gestured to the waitress to bring another bottle, and refilled his empty water glass with whiskey.
"Guess he wasn't kidding about getting drunk tonight, was he?" JL observed wryly. "Well, I was going to invite him home tonight anyway, so I'll play designated driver."
Methos looked surprised and vaguely disappointed, but JL was already heading over to the bar to give Joe a welcome- home hug. Shrugging, Methos walked over to Bryan's table and sat down. "Sorry about your friend, Bryan," he said, pouring some whiskey into the shot glass Bryan wasn't using. "It was quite a shock."
Bryan nodded sadly. "He was a good kid. Pulled four tours with me in 'Nam before I talked him into going home. I almost made him a partner in our dance studio when he suddenly got this urge to learn photography from JL." Glancing up to make sure JL was still talking to Joe, Bryan sighed. "I should have done it anyway. He'd be alive now."
"Don't you start blaming yourself, too," Methos implored him, giving Bryan's hand a sympathetic squeeze. "JL already thinks that if she hadn't recruited him into the Watchers, he'd still be alive. I don't want both of you wallowing in self- recrimination."
Bryan raised his eyebrow thoughtfully. "Why is it," he asked finally, "that everything comes back to you? I can't feel guilty because you can't be bothered. Aren't you going to tell me it's not my fault?"
Methos shrugged. "I could, but you already know that. You can't protect them from everything."
"Protect who from what?" JL asked, coming up behind Bryan and wrapping her arms around him. "How are you?"
"Besides being sad, lonely, and sexually deprived, fine. How about yourself?" Moving his chair back from the table, Bryan patted his lap invitingly.
JL looked playfully wary. "Sexually frustrated, you say? Maybe I should sit over there."
Bryan laughed and pulled her onto his lap. "I promise to restrain myself. Now if the old man was going to sit here..."
"Not in your wildest dreams, Cutler," Methos growled. "I'd sooner go back to living with my thirty-second mother in law."
Bryan shuddered dramatically. "That would be a no," he translated for JL. "Even I remember that harridan. She made Machiavelli look like a pussycat. How did you end up dealing with the lack-of-an-heir issue?"
"We moved to Florence. Quietly and in the middle of the night."
JL laughed and stole a sip out of Bryan's glass. "Typical. Why deal with what you can run away from?" Winking at Bryan and completely ignoring Methos' scowl, she settled deeper into Bryan's lap. "Where are you staying tonight, Bry?"
"I'm not sure. Colleen might call me if she wants to talk. Joe said I could have your old room at his place, and that handsome young blond is making eyes at me."
Glancing around, JL shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Romeo, but he's looking at me. Has been ever since Richie left. Some men just won't take a hint." Pulling Bryan's head down, JL kissed him passionately. "This would work better if you stopped giggling," she whispered in his ear as she let him go.
"Sorry," he said with another chuckle. "I'm not used to trying to discourage handsome young men. It just feels wrong, somehow."
"I don't care how it feels," JL replied. "Did it work?"
"No," Methos said with a smile. "He just looks thoughtful now."
JL sighed, then straightened as she felt another Immortal enter the bar. The three of them looked at the door until Duncan walked in and nodded to them. Karen Orsini was in her usual position, draped artfully over Duncan's arm with her perfectly-curled shoulder-length black hair framing her heart-shaped face, her bangs barely clearing her sapphire blue eyes. "I can't believe he's dating that phony," JL muttered. "She's so, so..."
"Drop-dead gorgeous?" Methos supplied helpfully.
"Artificial," JL stated firmly.
Bryan studied her with a puzzled expression. "Who is she?" he finally asked.
"Karen Orsini," JL replied. "A receptionist at the new medical center who moved into town a month or so ago, and who moved in on Duncan about a week after that. Why?"
Bryan shrugged. "She looks familiar, somehow. But at my age, everybody looks familiar."
"Tell me about it," Methos agreed. "I realized about five centuries ago that there are only a hundred unique faces and the rest are just variations."
Duncan seemed headed in their direction, but Karen stopped him and whispered in his ear. He looked surprised, then nodded agreement. Karen disentangled herself gracefully and walked back towards the ladies' room while Duncan continued over to their table. Bryan slid his arm under JL's legs and rose to his feet, effortlessly holding JL with one arm while shaking Duncan's hand with the other.
"Show off," JL grumbled good-naturedly, squirming her way out of his arms and regaining her feet. "Thanks for meeting Joe for me, Mac."
"No problem, JL," Duncan replied, smiling at the interplay. "The police were almost done by the time we got back, so they didn't ask me as many questions as they might have."
"Did they find anything?" Bryan asked.
"Not that they shared with me," Duncan said. "But the police and I don't get along too well."
Bryan nodded sympathetically, then dug his cellular phone out of his pants pocket. "Excuse me," he said. "I suppose I should answer this instead of just enjoying the vibration." Opening the phone, he said "Hello? Oh, hi, James. How's Dublin?" as he moved off into a quiet corner.
"Feeling better?" Duncan asked JL.
"Yeah," JL said with a nod. "Whatever else may be written about Methos, it should be noted that he gives a great backrub. And nobody orders Chinese take-out better."
Methos snorted. "I'd have cooked, but the only thing you had in your refrigerator was beer."
"Had?" Duncan countered. "I'm glad you cleaned someone else out for a change."
"Oh, here we go," Methos said, rolling his eyes piteously. "Why must you always pick on me?"
"Because it's fun," JL replied promptly, making room for Joe as he worked his way over from the bar and settled into a chair.
Bryan rejoined them as well, but he waved away JL's offer of a chair. "Jim says 'hi,'" he told them, "and he sends his condolences. If you want to call him to talk about it, JL, feel free. Collect, of course," he added with a wink as he reached for his coat. "He's staying with Sean in Dublin. Joe probably has the number, because I saw Jim's Watcher trailing his cab on its way to the airport."
Joe winked back at Bryan. "Of course we have it," he agreed. "And no, I won't tell you what they've been up to." Ignoring Bryan's sigh, he turned to Duncan. "Police give you much trouble, Mac?"
"Not really. Karen and I got taken to separate corners where I told my detective that I was with her all night. We must have given them similar stories because they left relatively quickly."
"Where is Karen tonight?" Joe asked.
Duncan shrugged. "She said she had to make a quick call and then use the ladies' room," Duncan replied. "Maybe her call lasted longer than she thought."
"And where are you off to, Bryan?" Methos prompted.
"I called Colleen," he answered, "and she agreed to let me sleep on her couch and baby-sit tomorrow so she has a chance to make some arrangements. Want to join me, JL?"
"Me? Baby-sit? You must have me confused with a patient, compassionate, masochist." Sipping her drink, JL glanced at Methos. "Take him," she suggested.
Methos looked up in surprise. "Me? I think not."
Bryan shook his head. "Be that way, all of you. I'll go it alone. There are only two of them. You guys are cowards." Glancing towards the ladies' room, Bryan looked thoughtful. "Your girlfriend, Mac," he said, putting on his coat. "Is she from San Francisco?"
"No, Los Angeles. Why?"
"She looks familiar," Bryan replied with a shrug. "But I'm in Los Angeles a lot, too. Maybe I saw her there. Well, goodnight, all."
"Night, Bryan," JL said, giving him a kiss and a hug.
As Bryan walked out the door, Karen came out of the ladies' room and joined them. "Hello, everyone," she said. "Is there any news about that poor man in the alley?"
"Justin?" JL said sharply. "No." Walking up to the bar, JL signaled to Mike and ordered them another round of drinks.
"Why doesn't she like me?" Karen asked them, batting her eyes in a way that Methos knew would make JL gag.
"She's a bit standoffish," Methos replied, hiding his amusement with an effort. "It takes time for her to warm up to a new face." Getting up, Methos wandered over to the bar to talk to JL while she waited for the drinks so he could snicker in peace.
"JL isn't the only one," Joe said softly. "I'm sorry, Karen, but they aren't a particularly trusting pair."
Karen smiled gratefully at Joe, and he gazed at her blue eyes until Duncan's voice broke him out of his reverie. "Karen," Duncan asked her, "did you notice the man who was sitting here when you walked in?"
"Not really," Karen replied. "Why? Who is he?"
"Bryan Cutler," Duncan told her. "A friend of ours who also knew Justin. He thought you looked familiar."
"I'm not sure," Karen said thoughtfully. "As I said, I didn't really look at him. I was a waitress while putting myself through school, so I might have served him dinner." Gazing at Duncan through her lashes, she smiled coyly. "I've been told I have a very distinctive face."
"Face number 37," Methos muttered, returning with the drinks. "With a touch of 56 around the eyes."
"What?" Karen asked.
"Nothing," Methos replied. "We were just talking about how people look alike after you've seen enough of them." Setting the tray on the table, Methos looked at Joe. "Did you get the files?"
"Yes," Joe told him. "They're in my office at home. I'll show you."
"That's all right, Joe," JL cut in. "I can find them."
"All right. I suppose you'll get involved regardless." Reaching in his pocket, Joe handed a ring of keys to JL. "They're in the file cabinet, top drawer. Stay out of the rest of it."
Looking at the keys in wonderment, JL blinked innocently at Joe. "Keys," she said sweetly. "How quaint. And how blissfully unnecessary." Tossing them back to Joe, JL winked. "I've been picking your locks since I was sixteen years old, Joe. Why start using keys now?" Turning to Methos, JL looked at him expectantly. "So are you ready?" she asked.
"Hey, wait a minute," Methos protested. "Whose investigation is this, anyway?"
"Mine," JL replied. "I'm taking over because I've got more investigative experience than you do. But I'm willing to share the scut work."
"You are too kind." With a sigh, Methos finished his beer and put on his coat. "Good night, all," he said. "Watson's work is never done. Don't forget your deerstalker, Holmes, my man. It's cold out there."
"Guard your own ears, Watson," JL replied. "And grab that magnifying glass."
Looking around, Methos shrugged and picked up the remains of Bryan's whiskey. Peering at JL through the glass, he checked its magnification properties and nodded to himself. JL laughed and ruffled his hair, then grabbed her coat and headed out with him.
Duncan watched them go with a smile. "Those two should have this wrapped up by breakfast," he observed. "If they can stop bickering long enough."
Joe sighed. "I'm not so sure. Justin didn't have any enemies that I know of. If it was random, well, that's really hard to solve."
"Any other, um, options?" Duncan asked hesitantly, glancing at Karen.
"Not at the moment," Joe replied. "I'll keep you posted." Getting up, Joe paused to give Duncan's shoulder a supportive squeeze. "We'll figure this out, Mac," he promised. "Sooner or later."
"I'm hoping for sooner," Duncan replied, "but the way my luck's been running lately, I'm not going to count on it."
Bryan sat on Colleen's porch, smoking a joint to calm his nerves while the twins slept. It had been a long night--Colleen had finally fallen asleep around dawn and the twins had gotten up a scant two hours later. Bryan had managed to keep them amused until almost ten, but the effort had exhausted him and he was glad to see Colleen emerge from the bedroom and give him the chance to take a shower and fix lunch. Now Colleen was off with her sister talking to funeral directors, and Bryan was praying that the twins would sleep until she got back. To make things even more complicated, Bryan's goddaughter, Celeste, had called out of the blue and told him she wanted to talk to him. He'd been amazed that she was in Seacouver, but she had promised to explain it all when she saw him.
Bryan had almost dozed off himself when a car pulled into the driveway and a dark-haired woman got out. He studied her curiously as she walked up and sat down next to him. Duncan's girlfriend, he thought as she sat down. Karen, as I recall. What could she want with me?
"How are you, Bryan?" she asked.
"Celeste?" he replied, his eyes widening in shock as his tired brain finally recognized her. "What in the world are you doing here? And what happened to your magnificent blonde hair? It used to be long enough for you to sit on."
"It's a long story, Bryan," she said, looking nervously around. "Have you got time? And, more importantly, are we alone?"
Bryan gestured to the baby monitor sitting next to him. "As I told you on the phone, I'm baby-sitting for Colleen's twins. She's off with her sister right now, and I'm not sure when she'll be back. Why all the secrecy?"
Karen got up and paced a little, then crossed her arms and looked at Bryan. "I know after Dad died I told you I was OK, but I guess I over-estimated my ability to cope. I, well, I..." Twisting her hands together, she looked about to cry. Bryan eased her down into a chair and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his own.
"It's all right, sweetheart," he soothed. "I told you I'd be there for you any time you needed me, and I meant it. Your foster-father was my friend for centuries, and I'm your godfather. You can tell me anything, Celeste."
"I know," she said, smiling shyly. "I'm just embarrassed. I really messed up this time." Gazing at Bryan with sad eyes, she sighed. "You know I finished my nursing training, right? Well, I was working a couple of weeks after Dad's death when my supervisor started hassling me. I lost my temper and stormed out. Instead of going home and cooling off, I, well, I went to a bar." Getting back up, she resumed pacing. "I know it was stupid," she admitted, "but I did it. Then I continued my brilliant streak by getting in my Ferrari and hitting a couple of parked cars and mowing down some innocent mailboxes. When the police got there, they found a couple of ounces of marijuana in the car, and they arrested me for possession as well as DUI. I ended up in all kinds of trouble that Daddy's lawyer spent a couple of weeks straightening out, and I ended up losing my job at the hospital."
Bryan glanced guiltily at his joint in the ashtray and got up to wrap his arms around Karen. She was two inches taller than his 5' 9", but she bent down so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I just needed a change," she told him finally. "A vacation, a chance to regroup. So I decided to have an adventure. You know that Daddy told me I was pre-Immortal on my twentieth birthday. Well, after that, he started teaching me how to use a sword and how to change identities so I could hide my Immortality. We went to the records office and ended up creating Karen Orsini." Pulling back so she could look in Bryan's eyes, Karen smiled hopefully. "I thought if I had to concentrate on being someone else, I could forget about Daddy for a little while. You understand why I did it, don't you?" she implored him.
"Sort of, I guess," Bryan said slowly. "But why Seacouver?"
Karen shrugged. "I always loved the house Dad bought overlooking the Sound. It seemed like the perfect place to re- evaluate my life."
Bryan nodded. "Been there a few times. But why the name change? Celeste Genrette is a beautiful name."
"I thought so too," Karen replied, "but now it's got a police record attached to it, and Karen Orsini doesn't. I had to give up my nursing certification, of course, but I wasn't really happy doing that anyway. The hours were grueling and the work was a lot harder than I thought it would be. So now I'm an administrative assistant at the local medical center. It's kind of boring, but there's lots of potential for advancement."
Bryan studied her for a moment, fighting to suppress a smile. You're amazing, Celeste, he thought to himself. Already changing identities like a pro just because you ran into a little legal trouble. You and JL are going to find out you have a lot more in common than you think. She's on her third name now, but she's a bit older than you are. Aloud, he finally protested, "You should have called me. I could have helped you."
"I was embarrassed. It was so stupid." Straightening her dress and dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Karen smiled weakly. "Besides, I was still kind of mad at you for not avenging Daddy."
"We've been through this, Celeste," Bryan replied firmly. "It was a fair Challenge that Roger instigated. The man who took his head doesn't deserve to die because he defended himself. Those are the Rules of the Game, and I know Roger explained them to you."
"I believe you now, Bryan," Karen said earnestly. "Really. That's what I spent most of my time thinking about while watching the water roll up on the rocks. And, after I got a little distance between me and Daddy's death, I started to see your point. It must be a very hard way to live."
"It has its benefits, too, Celeste," Bryan countered. "Roger loved life a great deal."
"Could you please call me Karen, Bryan?" Karen asked. "I'm afraid if Duncan hears you call me Celeste, he'll want to know why I've lied to him, and I really don't want to get into it all. He'll never respect me if he knows what an idiot I really am. Not to mention that fact that I haven't told him that I know why he keeps a sword under his bed."
"I doubt he'll think you're an idiot, Cel--I mean Karen. And if he finds out from someone else, he's bound to be angry," Bryan pointed out.
Karen nodded. "I know. I guess I thought I'd have my head on straight and leave before the issue came up. I never dreamed I'd see anyone here I knew." Putting her hands on Bryan's shoulders, she looked at him imploringly. "Please don't tell him, Bryan. I can't deal with all of it right now. It's too stressful, and that's just what I'm trying to avoid."
"I'd be a poor godfather, Karen, if I didn't tell you that you're making a mistake," Bryan told her gently. "This kind of lie never works in the long run. Watch any episode of any soap opera and you'll see what I mean. It's almost impossible to hide the fact that Immortality and all its trappings don't surprise you. Did you question his habit of keeping his sword under the bed?"
"A little," Karen admitted. "But he had several pat answers that he obviously expected would work."
"Don't we all," Bryan said with a grin. "Still, you basically lied to him, and made him lie to you in return. That's not going to sit well when he thinks about it later. Please tell him. It's so much easier to keep track of the truth, and it means you and he can share so much more together. If he knows he doesn't have to hide his Immortality from you, he can tell you wonderful stories, share his views on history, and generally impress you even more than he already has. Plus he could continue your sword training. He's supposed to be a good teacher."
"Maybe," Karen said doubtfully. "Your advice always has been right before. I'll have to think about it and figure out the perfect time to tell him. I'm sure it will come someday. Promise you won't do it for me?"
"Well," Bryan agreed hesitantly, "I guess so. It's your life, after all, and you're not really hurting anyone, just denying your chance to have a meaningful relationship. But you'd better really think about telling him. And don't wait for the 'perfect moment.' There's no such thing in a case like this, believe me."
"I'll tell him someday, I swear," Karen replied, hugging him. "I love you, Bryan," she said in his ear.
"I love you, too, Karen," Bryan replied, "even if you're every bit as stubborn as the old coot that raised you. Don't be a stranger, and don't hesitate to call me if you need me."
"I promise." Glancing at the baby monitor that was now relaying the unmistakable sounds of children stirring, Karen smiled and gave Bryan another hug. "Well," she told him, "looks like your break's over. I'll see you around sometime."
"Sure. How'd you like to start repaying my kindness right now? I could use some help."
Karen smiled sweetly. "I'd love to, really, but I have to get back to work. Sorry, Bryan."
"Sure you are," Bryan groused as she headed for her car. "Hey, Karen," he called after her. "What did you tell the police about the night Justin died?"
"Nothing much," she replied. "Why?"
"I was hoping you heard something," Bryan told her. "Was there anything the slightest bit unusual? Even the smallest piece of information might be important."
"Nothing special," she responded, frowning in concentration. "I woke up for about half an hour when Duncan came back to bed because he was cold and I had to register my complaints, but that's all."
"What time was that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Karen replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Around three or four, I guess. He's a restless sleeper sometimes, so I've gotten used to it. Why?"
"No reason," Bryan admitted. "Just grasping at straws. Take care, sweetheart. And call me before you get into an accident next time, OK?"
"Promise. Bye." With a wave, Karen got back into her car and drove off.
With a sigh, Bryan watched her turn the corner before going back into the house to get the twins up from their nap. She's just like her foster-father, he thought ruefully. Too stubborn to ask for help and overzealous enough to consider elaborate plots and charades as a way to 'relax.' I can see why Roger told her she's pre-Immortal--she's taken to it like a bee to honey. I still remember the first time Jim and I had to change our names. It took us weeks to readjust and stop answering to Benedictus and Julius. Now I can change names without batting an eye, and I usually remember to call my friends by whatever name they happen to be going by at the time. Too bad Benedictus isn't as timeless at 'Duncan.' Then I could drift through the centuries with only one name to remember, too.
Steeling himself, Bryan opened the door to the twins' bedroom and prepared for another grueling session playing 'horsy' before Colleen came home and let him flee to the relative peace and quiet of Joe's bar.
Having parked behind JL's Mustang and Methos' rental car, Duncan wasn't surprised to feel the buzz of another Immortal as he walked up to Joe's front door. He expected one of them to answer the door so they could investigate the buzz, but he could see Joe emerging from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Hi, Mac," he said, opening the door. "You're just in time for lunch."
"I just dropped by to find out why I'm at--what was that?--DefCon 3, JL called it." Sniffing the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, Duncan nodded thoughtfully and took off his coat. "Then again," he said with a grin, "lunch does have a certain appeal."
Joe chuckled. "JL explained the DefCon system to you did she? That girl loves anything even remotely high-tech. Come on in and join me in the kitchen. I need to finish the salad."
Duncan followed Joe into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow when he saw the table was already set for four. "I guess I am getting predictable, aren't I?" he observed. "Unless JL and Methos aren't your only luncheon guests."
"Actually," Joe replied, tossing the salad, "it was Methos who said you'd be here. It's going to cost JL $5, too."
"She bet against me, did she?"
"I bet you'd call first," JL replied from the top of the cellar stairs. "I thought I was the only one who dropped by Joe's unannounced at mealtimes." Glancing back at Methos, JL winked at Duncan. "Besides the World's Greatest Freeloader, here, of course," she continued. "But he doesn't count. He always shows up when there's food."
"Or beer," Methos said agreeably, dropping a stack of photographs on the counter. "And the combination is irresistible. Anyone else want one?"
JL nodded and got the glasses while Joe and Duncan put the lasagna, garlic bread, and salad on the table. After they had had a chance to rave about the cooking, Duncan waved a forkful of lettuce at Methos. "So, why am I at DefCon 3?" he asked. "Or can't you tell me?"
"There was an unconfirmed sighting of Kassim at the Sea-Tac airport," Methos replied. "The Watchers figured if he was here, he was here for you."
"I thought we settled that mess in Paris last year," Duncan muttered.
"You might have," Joe said. "The sighting was unconfirmed, remember. I have a call in to Kassim's Watcher, but he hasn't returned it yet."
"Would Kassim kill Justin?" JL asked.
"And then not come up and Challenge me? No, I don't think so," Duncan replied thoughtfully. "He kidnapped Rachel, but he didn't hurt her. I didn't even have to threaten him unduly to get her back."
"Some people would consider a sword at their throat a rather large threat," Methos said dryly. "Especially when it's as sharp as your katana. Toss me some bread, won't you?"
JL tossed him a piece of garlic bread then politely offered the basket to Duncan with a demure flutter of her eyelashes. He laughed and accepted the basket, selecting a piece of bread and passing it to Joe with a wink at Methos.
"Was there anything in the photos?" Joe asked before JL and Methos could escalate the food fight.
"No," JL replied with a sigh. "Just Justin lying in the mud and some shots he took of Duncan and Karen out on the town. Have you heard from the police?"
"I called while you were downstairs developing the pictures," Joe reported. "Still no leads."
"What was the time of death?" Duncan asked.
"Somewhere between three and five am," Joe replied. "Did you hear anything? Notice any strange shadows? Anything at all?"
Duncan shook his head. "No," he said slowly. "In fact, I slept through Karen's alarm and didn't wake up until I smelled the coffee she made."
"Energetic evening?" Methos inquired with a lascivious smirk.
"None of your business," Duncan informed him primly. "Get your own love life, already."
"Done that," Methos replied easily. "I've found it's much easier to pick on yours, especially considering the vast number of options that gives me." Ignoring Duncan's glower, Methos turned back to JL. "So, Holmes old boy, what's next?"
"I guess we question Karen. Maybe she remembers something she didn't tell the police. We could talk to Colleen, but I'm fairly sure I knew about all of Justin's friends, enemies, and acquaintances. We talked nearly every day since I moved back to Seacouver."
"You don't think it was an Immortal?" Duncan asked.
"If it was," Methos answered, "it was a young one. Justin's neck was hacked--whoever it was took at least four separate strokes to get through it. None of us would have been that sloppy."
"But why would a mortal use a sword?" JL countered. "Maybe we're just supposed to think it's a young Immortal, or a mortal emulating an Immortal."
"Which leaves us back where we started," Methos said with a sigh. "Our only hope is that we can find something in Justin's personal files that wasn't in his Watcher reports. Assuming he kept personal notes, that is."
"He did," JL confirmed, "although they tended to be comments about which shutter speed works best for various light conditions. He was almost as fascinated with cameras as I am." JL paused for a second, then purposefully shook off her memories of teaching photography to Justin. "I'll call Colleen and ask if we can see Justin's files," she promised, "right after lunch. I wonder how Bryan's doing as a baby-sitter?"
"One step away from a nervous breakdown, I'd wager," Methos said. "He likes kids, but I don't think he's ever dealt with twin two-year-olds. They were still babies and basically immobile the last time he baby-sat, weren't they?"
"That they were," JL agreed. "I'd like to be a fly on the wall, but he'd probably swat me for laughing too hard."
Duncan shook his head at their teasing and wiped his hands on his napkin before picking up the stack of pictures JL had just developed. Most of them showed the crime scene, but there were half a dozen that Justin had taken of Duncan and Karen at dinner. Duncan studied them curiously, trying to figure out why Justin thought Coquille St. Jacques and Lobster Newburg were critical to the annals of Immortal history. JL noticed his expression and stood up so she could look over his shoulder. "He's playing with the light off Karen's necklace," she explained, holding up two other shots next to the one Duncan was looking at. "See how different patterns catch the light depending on how her body is angled? And the candle on the table adds even more reflections." Studying the pictures, JL sighed. "Man, that's a beautiful piece. It must have cost a fortune."
Duncan shook his head. "The original would, but this is a copy. The edges are too smooth and the patterns too symmetrically cut. It's based on a Greek design that was popular in the second century, AD."
"Early third," Methos corrected. "And it's more Roman than Greek."
"Are you sure?" Duncan asked.
"Certainly."
"Like he'd admit it if he wasn't," JL muttered. "If I were you, Mac, I'd ask Bryan for confirmation. He was around then, too."
"He was more into fancy sword belts, armlets, and headbands around then," Methos replied. "Still is, actually. It broke his heart when the headband craze faded out again in the seventies."
JL shrugged. "Broke his heart when they went from those cute little Roman skirts to pants, too, but he managed to recover," she pointed out. "Of course, that might be where his fascination for kilts came from."
Methos chuckled and raised his beer. "Another mystery solved," he acknowledged. "I never could understand why they embraced the Scottish culture so completely after being raised in Italy, but that might just be it. They're suckers for the sight of bare knees and plaid." Getting up, Methos began gathering the dishes. "Why don't you call Colleen while Duncan and I clean up?" he suggested. "And take Joe with you, because he cooked all this."
JL nodded absently and gathered up the pictures. Methos watched her and Joe walk down the hall into the living room, smiling to himself at the way she unconsciously adjusted her stride to match Joe's.
"She seems to have recovered fairly well," Duncan observed as he loaded the dishwasher.
"I'm not so sure," Methos replied. "Do you remember the first time you lost someone you cared about? Not a clansman killed in battle but a true friend who died unexpectedly?"
Duncan winced, thinking about Deborah Campbell reaching frantically for his hand as the ledge crumbled under her feet. It had been a very long time before he'd been able to sleep without seeing her broken body lying at the base of the cliff. "Yes," he said softly. "And it still hurts."
Methos nodded. "Well, Justin is the first true friend JL ever lost. She's not one to make friends easily in the first place, so when she does, they're very special to her." Shaking his head, Methos put the remains of the salad into the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Offering one to Duncan, he hopped up on Joe's counter and regarded the can thoughtfully. "I think," he said finally, "that she's a lot like Jim in that she holds her emotions inside and puts on this great act that everything's OK- -up until she shatters." Sipping the beer, Methos leaned his head against the cupboard door. "Bryan calls it a symptom of their 'addictive personalities.' JL did heroin. Jim's drug of choice was opium. He spent the better part of a decade lost in some private fog."
"What got him out of it?" Duncan asked. "Bryan?"
"No," Methos replied. "Bryan finally got disgusted and left him languishing in some opium den. When Jim's protector stopped showing up, the proprietor sold him into slavery. He snapped out of it when they branded him."
"That would do it," Duncan agreed with a sympathetic wince. "He's lucky he didn't end up purchased by a sheik looking for another eunuch."
"A fact that I've pointed out to him more than once," Methos said. "He turns a lovely shade of white and settles right back down." Glancing toward the living room, Methos put on his most casual air. "Speaking of what could have been," he said quietly, "what happened between JL and Richie? They seemed rather fond of each other after we got back from Peru."
Duncan nodded. "They were. I'm not sure what happened, exactly, because Richie couldn't explain it. He thought they were just beginning to click. He did admit that he was beginning to feel the tiniest bit crowded trying to keep his schedule in synch with JL's, especially when she started working nights at Joe's bar and he began thinking about racing motorcycles again. He was going to propose a couple of minor changes when she walked in and announced she'd rented her own apartment across town. He tried to talk her out of it, but you know JL. When she makes up her mind, reasonable discourse isn't much use."
Methos rolled his eyes in agreement but refrained from commenting as JL's footsteps sounded in the hall. "I called Colleen," JL said as she walked into the kitchen, frowning at Methos until he reluctantly slid off the counter. "Bryan said she's still out with her sister, but he offered us $100 apiece if we come help with the twins. He thinks we can contain them if all three of us work together."
Methos chuckled and grinned at Duncan. "Coming?" he asked him.
"No, thanks," Duncan replied. "I'm not sure I'd be welcomed. I might remind her of why Justin was in the alley."
"Good point," JL agreed. "You might not want to come to Joe's tonight, either. We're having a private wake for Justin, and there will be a lot of Watchers there."
"Call me if I can do anything, though," Duncan said. "Are you taking up a collection for Colleen?" At JL's nod, Duncan sighed and continued, "I want to contribute. I know we never formally met and I didn't have anything to do with his death, but it would still make me feel better."
"Sure," JL answered. "Thanks. I know Jim and Bryan opened a trust fund for the twins the day they were born, but Colleen will need all the help she can get right now. Tell Joe and he'll take care of it. Shall we go, Watson?"
"We shall, Holmes," Methos agreed. "Although I still think I should get to be Holmes today. I do have considerable seniority on you, after all."
"Holmes is not based on age but on merit," JL informed him primly. "You've got to earn it, Mr. Relic." With a final wink at Duncan, JL dashed for the door before Methos could swat her properly.
Duncan laughed softly as Methos chased her out the front door. He stood for second staring off into space, his fingers drumming nervously on Joe's countertop. I never sleep through Karen's alarm, he thought. Much less her shower and the racket she makes getting coffee. Why was that morning any different? Odd, very odd. Karen says I woke her up getting back into bed around three, but I don't remember that, either. If I'm blacking out again--but no, he decided firmly. If I had killed a man that night, I'd remember it. I'm sure I would.
Forgetting that he meant to talk to Joe about contributing to Colleen's bereavement fund, Duncan just said good-bye to his friend and walked out to his T-Bird. Driving home, he tried to recall every detail of that night before he'd fallen asleep, but nothing unusual suggested itself. He remembered taking Karen out to dinner and a play, then going home for a night cap and a game of chess. She had managed to make him work for the victory, then she'd made him work in other ways that didn't have anything to do with chess pieces. He'd fallen asleep curled up with her just like he had almost every night for the past few weeks. I'd remember killing someone, he insisted to himself. Wouldn't I? Parking at the dojo, Duncan went inside and changed, running through his kata over and over until exhaustion drove out his last lingering doubts.
The next day, Joe attended Justin's funeral with JL and Methos. Bryan sat up front with Colleen, holding her hand as she sat with one twin nestled under each arm and her family close by. Almost a dozen Watchers were in attendance as well, and Joe couldn't help noticing how they occasionally whispered to one another and gave Bryan, and even JL, suspicious glances. Joe had listened to them speculate about Justin's killer at the wake the night before, and he'd had to use all his self-control to keep from smacking them when they started questioning Duncan's innocence. JL had defended Duncan staunchly, trying to convince them that it might not have been an Immortal who killed Justin. Joe had hoped they'd believed her, but the tension in the air today didn't bode well for the future. Luckily, JL and Bryan were both too preoccupied to notice the sideways glances they were getting. Methos seemed uncomfortably aware of them, though, because he was sitting next to JL and she was holding his hand tightly enough to make him wince occasionally. He leaned over to whisper in her ear and stroke her arm with his free hand. Joe sighed at the tense but determined look on Methos' face--he was glad Methos wasn't abandoning JL just because it looked like a Watcher was getting involved with an Immortal, but he could imagine the comments that were going to be made when the Watchers got together after the funeral. They'd already made a couple of guarded ones when JL and Methos had left the wake together, but they had grudgingly accepted Joe's explanation that JL had offered to combine her investigative skills with Adam Pierson's research skills to catch the killer. Even the most traditional among them hadn't been able to fault JL for wanting to find her protégé's killer, even if she wasn't a Watcher anymore. Especially with Colin towering over them telling them they'd better deal with it, or else.
They really would have believed her if they had seen them both poring over Justin's files when I got home at 3 a.m., Joe thought. I don't think they got more than two hours of sleep, then they were at it again right after breakfast until we had to leave for the funeral. Methos was about to start on Duncan's Chronicles when we had to leave, but he seemed more reluctant to read them than I expected. I thought he'd have already read everything we've got on Duncan, seeing as how he's made Mac his latest project.
Joe brought his attention back to the funeral as people began getting up to pay their last respects. He joined the line and was just moving away from the coffin when his cellular began vibrating. Moving away from the crowd, he flipped it open and said, "Hello."
"Mr. Dawson?" an unfamiliar male voice with a very familiar Scottish accent said.
"Speaking," Joe confirmed cautiously.
"My name is Cameron MacLeod," he said. "I'm calling on behalf of the Tribunal. Do you have time to speak to me?"
Joe glanced over to find JL and Methos talking to Bryan and Colleen. "Yes, for a little while," he said. "I'm at Justin Waldron's funeral."
"My condolences," Cameron responded promptly. "I'll make this brief, then. The Tribunal has reviewed your request to keep the investigation of Justin Waldron's death 'in house' as it were, and to allow the Immortal JL Dawson access to Watcher files so she can assist in the investigation with the Watchers Adam Pierson and Colin Jamison. That is an accurate summary of your request, is it not?"
"It is," Joe replied. "And I know it's extremely unusual, but this is an unusual case."
"So it is," Cameron agreed. "It's the first time on record a Watcher has turned out to be a pre-Immortal. There have been rumors of an occasional Immortal infiltrating our ranks, but I prefer to believe that those are just ghost stories."
Joe thanked the gods that picture phones hadn't been invented yet so Cameron couldn't see him blanch and glance nervously at Methos. "Me, too," he finally managed. "What about my request?"
"We have decided to let you proceed under the following conditions," Cameron replied. "First, Adam Pierson and Colin Jamison should be the only people with direct access to Watcher files. If Miss Dawson needs to know any information contained therein, one of them can summarize it for her. Second, I expect a written report faxed to me at the end of each day summarizing your progress--or lack thereof. It doesn't need to be long or brilliantly written, but it does need to be prompt. Finally, I want to be contacted the instant you reach any conclusions. Have you considered what you'll do if an Immortal is guilty?"
"Yes," Joe told him. "Both JL and Justin's friend, Bryan Cutler, have expressed a willingness to handle that situation."
"Bryan Cutler is involved as well?" Cameron asked disapprovingly.
"Not as intimately as JL," Joe reassured him. "But as you can see from Justin's dossier, he and Bryan became friends in Vietnam and have remained close ever since. Bryan has done a great deal to comfort Justin's widow." Joe could almost see Cameron's frown, and he held his breath waiting for the explosion. Cameron let him wait for almost a minute before he finally responded.
"Well," the Scotsman acceded, "what's done is done. I assume Bryan already knows of our existence?"
"Yes," Joe replied, "but he respects our position and hasn't tried to contact or get rid of his own Watcher. His lifestyle didn't change at all after he found out that he was being Watched."
"I appreciate your honest assessment of the situation," Cameron said, putting enough emphasis on the word 'honest' to let Joe know that, if Bryan's name hadn't come up, Cameron would have been greatly displeased. He paused, and Joe heard the rustling of papers. "All right, Joseph. If you agree to our conditions, then it's your show. If you need help, we'll give it to you. But if it looks like you're stalling or not going to be able to solve it on your own, I'll have to get directly involved. I know the Tribunal elected me because I'm a MacLeod and they have some silly notion that I can keep Duncan MacLeod from getting upset about our investigation purely on the basis of our common ancestry, but we both know that's nonsense. My staying out of it will do more to keep my Clansman calm than any amount of name-dropping. However, I hope you realize that I am every bit as uncompromising and stubborn as any MacLeod ever born, so I'd better not hear anything from anyone that leads me to believe that you aren't pursuing this to the fullest. If Duncan is involved, even in the slightest, I expect that to get reported. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Joe replied. "I'll make sure it's run by the book."
"Excellent. If your daily reports are adequate, I won't plan to come out there personally for a couple of weeks. Good luck, Joseph."
"Thanks," Joe said, flipping his phone closed before he whispered, "for pointing out yet again how much trouble I'll be in if they ever find out Pierson isn't the mild mannered Watcher he pretends to be. No Immortal shall have direct access to Watcher files my sweet aunt."
A footstep sounded behind him, and Joe turned to see Methos approaching with a questioning expression. "The Tribunal has elected a liaison to deal with us. It's Cameron MacLeod. Ever heard of him?"
Methos nodded. "He Watched Kanwulf the Viking for the last 14 years of Kanwulf's life, without ever interfering in any way that anyone could prove. Although," Methos added with a sly smile, "there were some wags at European HQ who couldn't resist pointing out that Kanwulf's reign of terror did end very quickly after he started posing as the MacLeod parish priest by day and digging up their ancient grave sites by night."
"You think he set Kanwulf up with Mac?" Joe asked sharply.
"Me? No," Methos admitted. "I think Kanwulf set it up himself to lure Duncan home so Kanwulf could get his ax back. But I was impressed that Cameron could sit in church during the day and listen to that man preach the word of God when he knew the truth. That makes him the first MacLeod I've ever met who could control his temper when his own best interests ran contrary to his sense of honor."
"That isn't very encouraging," Joe said with a sigh. "He wants daily reports, and JL's not supposed to have direct access to the files. He's giving us two weeks before he comes out here himself."
"Marvelous. Well, at least he's enough of a realist to accept that JL is going to investigate this, and that we'll get further if we cooperate." Turning around, Methos watched JL stand at the grave and stare at the coffin as if she could will its occupant back to life. Smiling sadly, he walked over to her and gently drew her away from the grave and back to Joe's truck. "Come on, Princess," Joe heard him say as they approached. "We've got stacks of papers to read before we sleep. Just don't tell anyone you're reading them yourself instead of having them summarized for you."
JL smiled distantly at him and got in the truck without one word of protest at being called 'Princess.' Joe and Methos exchanged worried glances, then Methos got in back with JL and Joe slid in behind the wheel. JL was silent, her head resting on Methos' shoulder and her eyes glassy and reserved. About halfway home she suddenly sat up and addressed Joe. "What do you know about Corey Williamson's death?" she asked.
"Corey Williamson?" Joe repeated. "The Watcher who died in Los Angeles last May? I wasn't there--Justin was."
"I know. I read the entry in Justin's notes, and the one he entered in Duncan's Chronicle. But did he tell you anything else about it? Any other details?"
"No, why?"
"Because Corey was beheaded, too," JL explained. "Maybe they're related."
Joe stiffened, staring at her in the rear-view mirror. "You don't really think Duncan murdered Justin, do you?" he demanded.
"Did you think he would murder Corey?" she replied defiantly.
"He didn't. At least, it wasn't confirmed," Joe hedged.
JL shook her head. "Justin interviewed a witness who saw a man fitting Duncan's description going through Corey's pockets and looking at his ID. Why would Mac rifle a dead body he'd just run across? And you did give him credit for the Immortal who was found on the scene. Roger Genrette."
"I gave him probable credit, yes," Joe replied. "Nothing definite, because Justin lost them in traffic outside the nightclub and didn't pick them up again until after the Quickening. It could have been Greg Powers, too, as the entry also says."
"But the witness didn't see Powers, did she?" JL insisted. "I vote we go to the dojo and ask the source."
Joe glanced in the mirror at Methos, but he just shrugged. "Can't hurt," Methos conceded. "You know she won't let it go until she questions him anyway. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation." I hope there is, anyway, Methos continued silently. If you're losing it again, MacLeod, somebody else can take a turn dragging you into that spring. I'm way too old to go through that twice.
Joe just shook his head and drove them to the dojo. Duncan was working out on the punching bag when they arrived, but he took one look at their somber clothes and serious expressions and took them all up to his loft without question. "So," he said when he'd poured drinks and everyone had settled in, "what's the problem?"
"There probably isn't one," Joe said quickly before JL could launch into her interrogation. "Just a mystery we were hoping you could clear up."
"What mystery?" Duncan prompted.
"Why you killed Corey Williamson in LA," JL stated flatly.
"Corey Williamson?" Duncan said in surprise. "Was he a Watcher? He didn't have a tattoo."
"He was allergic to the ink," Methos supplied. "Or terrified of needles, depending on who you believe."
"You knew him?" JL demanded. "Why didn't you say so?"
"I knew of him," Methos corrected mildly. "He was a loner who didn't have any friends in the Watchers anymore. Even his own mentor got sick of his attitude and quit contacting him. But his reports on Roger Genrette were neat, timely, and thorough, so they let him stay." Methos blinked innocently at JL's accusing stare. "Well," he said defensively, "I just happened to stumble over the report and I read it. I knew Roger Genrette too, for that matter. Bryan Cutler introduced us back in the early 1800's or thereabouts." Methos raised his glass meaningfully towards Duncan. "Bryan and Roger were good friends, actually. Bryan called me a couple of months ago looking for the name of the Immortal who killed another one of his friends, and he pestered me until I gave it to him. I assumed he'd do the same thing over Roger Genrette, but he didn't. He might not know Genrette's dead yet, or he might be running the investigation with his own contacts down in LA. I won't tell him that you were involved, but I'd be very careful around Bryan until Jim comes home, just in case he finds out somehow. I'd hate for him to take his frustration out on you, and only Jim can get through to him when he gets vengeful."
"Why would he?" Duncan asked. "Genrette died in a fair Challenge, but it wasn't with me."
"It wasn't?" Joe said in surprise. "But why were you searching Corey's body?"
Duncan sighed. "Well," he replied, "it's complicated. I went to LA to see Greg Powers' new exhibition..."
Los Angeles, seven months previous. Duncan toasted Greg's success and his plans to go back into medicine again, then went back to chatting with the girl he'd met on the dance floor. Greg was likewise occupied when they felt the presence of another Immortal enter the club. Looking up, they saw a tall man with dark brown hair and dark eyes stroll into the room. His smile was properly charming, but his eyes gleamed with a hunter's lust when he saw Greg. Greg started to move toward the dance floor, but the stranger cut him off neatly and whispered in his ear. Duncan watched them, knowing that his plans for the evening had just changed. Greg's look of annoyance when he returned to the table confirmed it, and they both reluctantly released the girls back into the throng.
"Who was he?" Duncan asked as they left the club. "And why you?"
"His name's Genrette," Greg replied. "Roger Genrette. Ever heard of him?" When Duncan shook his head, Greg shrugged. "I met him last week in a bar. We exchanged names, I invited him to my show, then we parted ways."
"Maybe he didn't like your photographs," Duncan said with a grin. "He's doing this to strike a blow for good taste and artistic integrity."
"Very funny," Greg growled. "I hope you're still laughing if he goes right through me and takes offense at your dull Scottish wit."
"Never happen," Duncan reassured him. "I bet I could take him easily." Greg glared at him menacingly, but Duncan just laughed again. "I'll be your second, though," he offered. "Carry your sword and all that."
"I can carry my own sword," Greg retorted. "But you can tag along if you want to see how a real swordsman fights."
"Do you really think he's that good?" Duncan asked innocently. "Oh, you were referring to yourself. Sorry." Dodging Greg's half-hearted punches back to the car, Duncan was still laughing when they reached the Challenge site. He leaned against a tree, content to hide in the shadows so Genrette wouldn't feel double-teamed. The park was deserted, and they were far enough off the path that only the full moon lit the clearing. Genrette didn't even glance in Duncan's direction when he strode onto the scene a few minutes later and drew his sword. Greg's attempts to dissuade Genrette failed quickly, and the two men began circling. Duncan studied them intently, his heart sinking when he realized that Genrette's confidence wasn't a bluff. Greg was driven to his knees and barely managed to recover before Genrette could land a killing blow, but he was staggering badly and Duncan felt himself unconsciously grip the hilt of his katana tightly enough to make his fingers ache. Greg stumbled again, but it was Genrette who fell to his knees this time--staring down in shock at the hilt of Greg's hold-out dagger protruding from his heart. Greg tossed his shaggy black hair in his signature 'hey, what can you do?' gesture, then he neatly disarmed Genrette before lifting his blade for the killing blow. Genrette looked like he was going to plead for mercy, but Greg didn't wait to hear his request before bringing his sword down in a final, flashing arc. The Quickening roared through the trees, breaking branches and shattering distant street lights throughout the park. Greg knelt in the center of the storm, trying to absorb the power while the deep wounds Genrette had inflicted on him began to heal. Duncan was about to go over to him when a man burst from the trees on the other side of the clearing.
Grabbing Genrette's sword, he attacked Greg, shouting, "You've ruined everything, you son of a bitch! You've ruined everything!" He wielded Genrette's blade awkwardly, his swings obviously driven by anger rather than skill.
Duncan assumed he must be Genrette's student, come to watch his mentor in action. Greg should have been able to deal with him easily, but he was still stunned by the Quickening and the loss of blood, and he was having trouble regaining his feet. The man scored a hit on Greg's arm as Duncan leapt into the fray, using his katana to deflect the man's blade away from Greg's head. At Duncan's urging, Greg stumbled off into the darkness toward the car while Duncan blocked his crazed assailant. He intended to simply disarm the man and try to reason with him, but, as the man swung at Duncan's neck, he slipped on the bloody grass and Duncan's instincts took over. The katana flashed out almost of its own accord and Duncan watched the man's headless body topple to the ground next to Genrette's, almost as if someone else had been responsible.
As Duncan's pulse returned to normal and no trace of a Quickening appeared, he realized that his opponent wasn't Genrette's grief-stricken student after all. Examining the body, he discovered that his opponent was at least 60 years old and about 50 pounds overweight. He couldn't imagine why this man had tried to avenge Genrette, but he certainly wasn't Immortal, or even pre-Immortal. Duncan automatically checked the man's wrists, but they were devoid of tattoos, and any pendant he might have been wearing was lost in the trampled grass of the clearing. Duncan looked through his wallet, but all he found was a California driver's license and various credit cards with the name Corey Williamson. He glanced up when he thought he heard a twig snap on a distant bush, quickly replacing the wallet and grabbing Greg's dagger from Genrette's chest before following Greg into the darkness towards his car.
Duncan got up to refill the drinks and give them the chance to assimilate his story. When he sat back down, he sipped his brandy and looked at Joe. "I expected you to talk to me if you had any questions," he said. "But when you didn't, I assumed you'd seen it."
Joe shook his head. "Justin volunteered to follow you to LA that trip," he replied. "He saw Genrette Challenge Greg in the club, then lost you in traffic. He didn't get there until you'd already left the scene."
"Then how did you know I searched Corey's body?" Duncan asked.
"There was another witness," Joe informed him. "Probably the twig-snapper you heard in the bushes. Justin found her crying over Genrette's body."
"Celeste Genrette," JL supplied. "Roger's foster-daughter and Bryan's goddaughter."
"Bryan has a goddaughter?" Duncan and Methos asked almost simultaneously.
JL nodded and got up to raid the bowl of fruit on Duncan's kitchen counter. Methos looked at her beseechingly, and she sighed and snagged him a beer while she was up. Returning to the living room, she put the bowl on the coffee table and selected an apple. Duncan had to suppress a chuckle when he saw her expression--it was almost identical to the one Joe wore when he was contemplating how much he could tell Duncan about Watcher affairs.
"I don't have any first-hand information about Bryan's relationship with Roger Genrette," JL finally said. "They didn't visit him while I was Watching them so I couldn't find a reason to ask them about him. I did re-read all the relevant Chronicle entries last night, though. Bryan met Roger on Manhattan Island in 1730. Jim was away on business, so Bryan was at loose ends. He and Roger first met briefly in a tavern, then Roger happened to be in the neighborhood of Bryan's hotel when it burned to the ground. Roger rescued Bryan, and they became friends. They ran a whole series of land deals all across the New World for the next fifty years or so, until Roger decided to explore Europe. They exchanged occasional letters until 1967, when Roger moved to Los Angeles. Since then they've visited each other a few times. The only time anything more exciting than dinner got reported was in 1971 when Roger and his mortal wife Karlene adopted Celeste as a newborn and invited Jim and Bryan to share the joyous event."
JL bit into her apple and regarded them thoughtfully. "I do have some additional information that's not in the Chronicles," she admitted quietly. "Roger and Karlene named Jim and Bryan as the baby's godparents, and they went to the christening, bought her a silver rattle--the whole rich godparent enchilada. At Celeste's tenth birthday party, Roger told them that his wife had an inoperable brain tumor and didn't have much longer to live. They got extremely drunk and more than a little maudlin, and ended up making a mutual pact with Roger saying that they wouldn't fight each other until the Gathering and that they could always call on each other for support. They also promised to protect and care for Celeste as long as she lives." Shaking her finger sternly at each of them in turn, JL said warningly, "None of this is supposed to be public knowledge," she told them, "so don't go questioning Bryan about it. If Methos didn't even know about their godparent status, then it's something they obviously went to some lengths to keep private. Why, I'm not exactly sure, but Bryan's bound to figure out that I'm the one who ferreted it out and then opened my big yap to you guys."
"Meaning you ferreted through his desk and read his diary," Methos translated.
"It was Jim's diary in his safe, actually, but you have the idea." Taking another bite of her apple, JL continued with a small shrug. "What can I say? I was still in my aggressive stage back then, and they left me alone in the house over the weekend. I planned to file an official Chronicle entry, but, as I was typing in up, I had a vision of how pissed they would be if they ever found out. So I decided I'd wait until they contacted Celeste and I could wheedle the story out of them more honestly, but it never came up."
"I am so glad you're out of the Watchers," Methos observed dryly. "With my luck, they would have assigned you to Methos and I'd have been blown long ago."
"What makes you think they didn't take me back for such a special assignment? Especially when I offered to do it for free?" JL asked with a perfectly straight face. She couldn't hold it very long, though, at the stricken expression on Methos' face. "Relax," she said with a grin, "none of us have sold you out. Yet, anyway."
"So where is Celeste Genrette?" Duncan asked, eager to get back on the subject.
"I talked to our people in LA," Methos replied, "and they aren't sure. We don't keep separate files on relatives unless we have reason to believe they're pre-Immortal or if we're planning on recruiting them. And Celeste isn't the Watcher type. According to the information we do have, she's the typical blonde rich kid--lots of hair, jewelry, and flash. When Roger was alive, she drove a Ferrari, spent money like it was water, and managed to pursue a nursing career without breaking a nail by batting her eyes and looking helpless. Definitely not someone who would do well at observing someone subtly."
"I called in some heavy favors with my old contacts in the Los Angeles police department," JL continued, "and I got them to ask around for me. A month after Roger died, Celeste got into a fight with the nurse manager and quit. According to Roger's accountant, Miss Genrette decided to travel while she re-evaluates her young life. She bought an open-ended ticket to Paris and a Eurail Pass, got a substantial amount of money in traveler's checks, and picked up stakes. She calls in occasionally to make sure everything's running smoothly with Daddy's investments, but the accountant doesn't have a forwarding address for her because she doesn't have a fixed itinerary."
"According to our Paris branch," Methos offered, "Genrette's townhouse is empty. With a six month head start, she could be anywhere by now."
Finishing her apple, JL got up and tossed the core and Methos' empty beer can into the trash. "Besides," she continued with a small shrug, "according to Justin's report, Celeste didn't get a good look at you anyway. She just described a tall, dark-haired man in a long coat. The only reason Justin knew it was you and not Greg was because he knew you were wearing your duster and Greg was wearing his short leather jacket. When Justin talked to Celeste, he was very careful not to give her any information. The police investigation didn't even manage to identify the considerate photographer who comforted Celeste at the scene, much less identify the killer." Smiling reminiscently, JL stood behind Joe and idly rubbed his shoulders. "I can't tell you the number of times Watchers have claimed to be freelance photographers who 'just happened' to be in the area photographing trees in the moonlight, old bridges, abandoned warehouses, or whatever. I'm not sure what they did before cameras, though."
"They carried sketch pads and pencils and claimed to be artists," Methos replied. "At least, that's what the lady I ran into claimed when I cornered her after one of my fights back in the 1300s." Striking a model-like pose, Methos batted his eyes at JL. "In fact," he informed her archly, "she said I had perfect cheekbones and she just couldn't resist sketching them."
"So lying is a time-honored Watcher tradition," JL said with a sweet smile at Methos. "Doesn't surprise me a bit. Shall we return to our paperwork, Watson?"
"You go," Methos said with an exaggerated pout. "I'm staying here where I'm appreciated."
"You can if you want," Duncan replied, "but I'm getting ready to go to the opera with Karen tonight."
With a piteous sigh, Methos trailed after JL and Joe, but the last thing Duncan heard as the elevator began its descent was JL's surprised squeal as Methos launched a retaliatory tickle-strike.
The next evening, Joe arrived at work to find JL behind the bar trading half-hearted insults with Methos and Bryan. Both she and Methos had spent the day at JL's apartment going over Duncan's Chronicles, and they both looked tired and discouraged. Bryan was doing his best to cheer them up, but it was obvious that it wasn't working. Joe walked over and took the seat next to Methos, gratefully accepting the beer JL drew for him. "You look as depressed as we do," Methos commented. "What's up?"
"Kassim's Watcher finally called. The sighting was a false alarm." Joe sipped his beer and glanced at Bryan. "How's Colleen?"
"Better than I expected," Bryan replied. "Her sister got someone to watch the twins and they went out to dinner and a movie."
"You didn't volunteer this time, Bryan?" Joe asked with a grin.
"Nope. Nor did she ask me. I guess I looked too worn out after the last time."
"How long are you staying, Bryan?" JL asked. "And are you free tonight?"
"I'm not sure," he replied thoughtfully. "I promised Colleen I would see that the person who killed Justin met the same fate that he did, but, if we can't identify the killer, that's going to be hard."
"You never learn, do you?" Methos said reprovingly. "Never promise to help anyone. It only gets you into trouble."
"You might have them convinced that you never help anyone, old man," Bryan protested quietly, "but I know better. I've seen you do it more than once."
Methos looked around to make sure no unauthorized ears were listening, then he turned back to Bryan. "Seen me, yes. But never heard me. If I'm inclined to help, I help. I just don't promise to do so first in case I change my mind. And I never make commitments that cover an indefinite period of time or an entire family." Raising his glass significantly, he studied Bryan intently. "Just as the sins of the father shouldn't reflect on the sons, neither should his heroics."
Bryan groaned. "This is about the trust fund we set up for Justin's twins, isn't it?"
"Money isn't the issue, Bryan," Methos insisted, "and you know it. You promised to avenge Justin. How long before you promise to protect his family? Assuming you haven't already, of course. And you can't. Nor more than you can protect JL. Or Joe. Or anyone else for that matter." Laying his hand on Bryan's shoulder, Methos gazed at Bryan until he was sure he was paying attention. "Listen, my friend," he said softly, "you are old, but I am much, much older. The longer you live, the more likely you are to find your promises, however well intentioned, leading you into trouble. It's amazing how many times a vow you make to one person ends up conflicting with an oath you make to someone else when the participants all live for centuries."
Bryan shrugged slightly. "If you stop caring, though, you stop living and start merely existing. And I want more than that out of life."
"So take it," Methos replied. "Just shut up about it before you do. Ask Mac about it if you don't believe me. He's gotten burned more than once, and he's still a baby compared to us." Draining his beer, Methos grinned. "How about taking in a movie ourselves? We can go see that new Jackie Chan picture, First Strike. I hear he ends up using a big stepladder as a weapon, a shield, and a cage during a fight with a bunch of guys wielding bamboo staves."
Bryan laughed. "You are the only man I know who can go from deeply philosophical to Jackie Chan in the space of a breath. But what the hell. I love watching his choreography, and his buns aren't bad either." Draining his drink in turn, Bryan tossed some money on the bar and grabbed his coat. "See you around, kid," he said to JL as they left.
JL sighed and cleared their glasses. "Great," she complained to Joe. "There goes my evening. I was planning to invite Bryan home tonight. We have a lot to catch up on."
"You need your sleep anyway," Joe told her. "I can't stay much longer because I take over Watching Mac from Tammy Coltrain at 7 a.m."
"If Kassim's not in town, why is Duncan still being Watched all night?" JL asked.
"Just a precaution," Joe replied. "I still think a beheading in Duncan's alley has to relate to him somehow, even if we can't see how quite yet. Did Colin turn up anything?"
JL shook her head and sighed. "No one in the neighborhood saw or heard anything unusual. None of Justin's friends remember him being upset or worried about anything other than Colleen's cold. Without Kassim in the picture, we don't have a single useful lead. Right, Colin?" she added as Colin hung up his coat and walked over to the stool next to Joe.
"Right," Colin agreed. "Whatever the lady says." Smiling gallantly at JL, he glanced at Joe out of the corner of his eye and spoke in a stage whisper, "What did I just agree to, Joe?"
"Helping me tend bar tonight," JL said promptly. "Unless you're busy."
"Me? Too busy to help you? Never." Colin walked behind the bar and poured himself a scotch. "Especially when there's alcohol involved."
Joe laughed and decided JL was in good hands. After all, he reminded himself, Colin saw her through her heroin withdrawal, and, no matter how badly she feels about Justin's death, it can't hold a candle to that. And with his wife visiting family back in Boston, Colin's got nowhere to be tonight, either. Pushing back from the bar, Joe waved at them and headed home so he could get some sleep.
He tossed and turned a bit before he finally dozed off, and his dreams were anything but restful. They took him back to the dojo the night Duncan took the Dark Quickening and tried to kill Richie. This time, however, Joe imagined that it was Justin Duncan was fighting with, and Joe's gun refused to fire. Justin's head rolled across the floor and Duncan began laughing cruelly at Joe's helplessness. Duncan was advancing across the dojo floor with his bloody katana pointing directly at Joe's heart when the alarm went off and almost gave Joe heart failure. Fighting to calm his nerves, Joe disentangled himself from the bedclothes and slid into his wheelchair. He felt much better after his shower, but he couldn't shake the memory of Duncan's expressive face twisted by a hatred he couldn't control. Come on, Joseph, he chided himself silently as he dressed. You've been through this a hundred times already. You know damn well that if Duncan we being controlled by the evil he's absorbed, you'd notice. His dark twin was about as subtle as a freight train, and he couldn't hide his anger for more than a few minutes at a time. 'Skippy,' as JL so irreverently dubbed him, is well and truly gone. At least for now, anyway.
Driving to the dojo, Joe concentrated on the audition tape of a new blues band. By the time he parked outside Duncan's, he felt much better and could even enjoy the music. He decided that Duncan would recognize his car wherever he parked it, so he took a spot next to the door. He knew Tammy had a customized Ryder truck, and he soon spotted it parked acrossed the street. Pulling a flashlight out of his glovebox, he flicked the beam on and off three times. When Tammy didn't acknowledge his signal, he sighed and walked over to her truck. He tapped on the back door with his cane, but she didn't respond. He checked the cab, but she wasn't there, either. He looked suspiciously at the alley under Duncan's window, but dawn was more than half an hour away and he couldn't see anything. Walking slowly over to the alley, he found Tammy's body lying almost exactly where Duncan had said they'd found Justin. Above him, a light went on in Duncan's loft, the occupants oblivious to the fact that a bad situation had just gotten worse. Joe trudged back to his car and got his camera, photographing the truck, the alley, and the body of woman that he'd worked with for the last 23 years. He had just finished photographing everything he could think of when he heard someone walk down the outside stairs, get into a car, and drive off. Checking his watch, he was surprised to find that almost an hour had passed since his arrival. The car's engine had been much quieter than the T-Bird's, but he checked Duncan's parking space just in case. As he'd suspected, Duncan's car was still there and Karen's was gone.
Putting his camera back in his car, Joe made sure the lights were still on in Duncan's loft before he climbed the outside staircase and knocked on the door. After a few moments he knocked louder, but he still didn't get a response. Puzzled, he wondered if Duncan had left with Karen, but he knew Mac was always careful to turn out the lights before he left. Giving the door a couple of final loud knocks, Joe was about to give up when he heard a muffled crash and a curse. A minute or so later, the door opened to reveal a tousled version of Duncan that Joe would have sworn was extremely hung over. "Duncan?" he asked in alarm, "Are you all right?"
"I guess," Duncan replied muzzily. "I must be, right? What time is it?"
"Eight o'clock," Joe told him. "Your lights have been on for an hour and Karen just left, so I came up." Moving past Duncan, Joe studied the Immortal's puffy eyes. "You look like you had a very, very long night."
"Not especially, no," Duncan replied tiredly. "But if I look even half as bad as I feel, I can see why you'd think that. Do you smell coffee?"
"No," Joe said. "Shall I make some?"
"Please." Sitting down, Duncan rubbed his eyes. "I haven't felt like this since, since..."
"The morning Justin died?" Joe suggested softly, praying it wasn't true.
"Sort of," Duncan admitted. "Only this is worse. Much worse. Why?"
Joe started the coffee and sat down across from Duncan. "Because," he said slowly, "I came here an hour ago to relieve the Watcher who followed you home last night. Did you see her?"
Duncan shook his head, wincing at the motion. "No. I assumed someone was probably out there, but I specifically didn't look for them. We went to the opera, stopped by your bar and spent about half an hour chatting with JL and Colin, then came home. I didn't even drink that much."
"I hate to say this, Mac," Joe said, "but I really wish you had. In fact, a hangover would be a very good thing right now."
"Why, Joe?" Duncan asked, his concern reflected clearly in his eyes. "Don't tell me it happened again."
Joe nodded sadly. "The Watcher I was supposed to relieve is lying in your alley just about where you told me you found Justin. No sign of a struggle, either. I don't understand it. Tammy's been a field agent for almost 40 years. She's one of the best we have. Had," he corrected himself quietly.
"I'm sorry, Joe," Duncan said.
"Me, too, Mac. Me too." With a sigh, Joe got up to get the coffee. Glancing over toward Duncan's bed, he noticed the overturned nightstand that must have accounted for the earlier crash. Walking over to it, he straightened the table and froze, staring at something under Duncan's bed.
Duncan had thanked him for righting the table, but, when Joe didn't move, he got up and came over to see what Joe was staring at. His katana lay half under the bed where he must have kicked it when he got up, its normally pristine blade marred by a small, dark stain near the guard. Joe used the tip of his cane to slide the sword out from under the bed, where the light made it abundantly clear that the stain was dried blood. Duncan bent down to pick it up, but Joe caught his arm. "There may be prints, Mac," he said tightly. "Don't touch it, and I'll call Colin and JL. They know how to dust for them."
"Joe, I didn't..." Duncan began, dropping to his knees next to his sword but not touching it.
"I know, Mac," Joe said softly. "Maybe you just missed that spot yesterday after you sparred with JL. She was complaining that you cut her a couple of times, and that you two got so involved you ran late. Come on, Mac. Let's get some coffee." Drawing Duncan away from the bed the way Methos had led JL away from Justin's grave, Joe eventually got Duncan seated on a kitchen stool. Pouring them each a cup of coffee, Joe called JL and let her cellular ring until she answered it. Filling her in quickly, he was gratified to hear how quickly she managed to wake up and ask rational questions. Hanging up, he returned his attention to Duncan. "She'll be here in half an hour with Colin in tow," he told the Highlander. "And she says not to worry. She thinks it's blood from yesterday's sparring session, too."
Duncan smiled wanly and nodded. "Sure, Joe," he muttered without conviction. "It would be the first time I didn't clean it properly since I got it, but I suppose it could happen."
Joe sighed and refilled their cups. He called his house but the machine picked up before Methos answered. "Adam?" he said, hoping his houseguest was in the kitchen but not wanting to leave his real name on tape just in case. "You there? We need to talk to you." When Methos didn't answer after a few seconds, Joe sighed again. "When you crawl out of bed, Adam, come on over to Duncan's. It's urgent." Hanging up, Joe studied Duncan over the edge of his coffee cup. The Immortal looked slightly less tired, but Joe hadn't seen his look of intense concern since Duncan had tried to win back Richie's trust--and come very close to losing him to Haresh Clay before he could reach his friend. Sipping his coffee, Joe sighed softly. Please, he implored any deities that might be listening, don't let this turn out to be another aspect of Duncan's Dark Quickening. He's been through too much to go through that again. Refilling their coffee cups, Joe couldn't help touching the reassuring weight of the .38 revolver in his pocket. If it is, though, this time I'm not untying you. At least, not until Bryan and Methos are around to take charge of you.
Fortunately for Joe's nerves, JL's arrival interrupted him before he could work himself up too much. Her hair was still damp from the quick shower she'd taken, and her 'professional' look meant she was keeping her emotions in check through sheer force of will. He knew she couldn't have gotten home much before 3 a.m., and the dark circles under her eyes confirmed that she hadn't slept as long as she needed to. Stifling a yawn, she hung her coat on Duncan's coat rack and took a Snickers bar out of the pocket. Nibbling on the chocolate, she studied the katana silently while Joe explained the events of the morning. When he was done, she opened her briefcase and began assembling her fingerprinting supplies while Joe poured her some coffee. At the sound of footsteps on Duncan's stairs, JL got up and opened the door to admit an equally-drowsy and damp-haired Colin.
"Same basic MO," Colin told her, giving her a quick hug as he entered. "Is that coffee?"
"Yes," Joe replied. "Here. I'll make another pot."
Walking into the kitchen, Colin nodded at Duncan and accepted the cup Joe offered him. Studying Duncan over its rim much as Joe had done earlier, Colin looked as if he were about to speak then just shook his head and drank his coffee.
"Say it," Duncan said wearily. "Your police instincts say I'm guilty."
Colin sighed but continued to meet Duncan's gaze without flinching. "That they do," he finally agreed, "but my Watcher instincts disagree. You, however, might benefit if I do treat you as the prime suspect."
"How?" Joe asked sharply.
"Because," Colin said, obviously choosing his words carefully, "if we assume you're innocent then we won't tear this place apart looking for clues. We won't test the blood on your katana to see who it belongs to. And we might miss a clue that could prove your innocence--or someone else's guilt." Pausing to sip more coffee, Colin picked up an apple from Duncan's fruit bowl and polished it against his shirt. "JL and I talked about this last night," he continued. "We think it's a frame. And frames can be very, very hard to pull off. If I do a thorough investigation and take nothing at face value, it might just clear you."
"But it might convict me, too," Duncan said quietly.
"Does that mean you think you might have done it?" Colin asked in surprise.
Getting up and pacing over to the window, Duncan leaned against the sill and stared out at the alley wall. "I don't know anymore," he half-whispered.
"I do," JL said firmly. "You aren't a cold-blooded killer, Mac. Even in your dark phase, you didn't kill Joe when you had the chance. And the motivation." Walking up behind him, JL squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "If having a bad night was proof of anything, I'd be locked up for life. Come on, let Colin run a full investigation. Show them you've got nothing to hide. Show yourself you've got nothing to hide."
"And if I do?" Duncan asked, still staring out the window as images of Richie kneeling helplessly on the dojo floor while Duncan mocked him swam before his eyes.
"Then we'll deal with it," JL replied, turning Duncan around so she could look him in the eye. "But we've got to know what we're dealing with first, right? Right? At least, that's what you old and wise types are always telling me."
Duncan nodded to himself, then straightened and smiled gratefully at JL. Turning to Colin, he said, "Do whatever you need to do."
"Who made the coffee?" Colin asked promptly.
"What?" Duncan replied in confusion. "Joe. Why?"
"Have your hands been in water this morning?"
"No," Duncan told him. "Why?"
"Good," Colin said, rummaging through JL's briefcase and eventually producing some plastic evidence bags and a thin black case. "Have a seat," he told Duncan, gesturing to the kitchen stool next to him. When Duncan sat down, Colin said, "First off, let me see your hands." Taking Duncan's right hand, Colin studied it intently, then used a small silver probe to remove some scrapings from under Duncan's fingernails. Tapping the material he removed into a bag, he labeled and sealed it before repeating the procedure on Duncan's left hand. When he finished, he regarded the Highlander quizzically. "So, what did you wear to bed last night?"
Duncan arched an eyebrow but Colin continued to look at him steadily. "Nothing," Duncan finally admitted.
"Let's go into your bathroom, then," Colin replied. When Duncan just stared at him, Colin smiled. "I apologize for being so intrusive, but I really need to examine both your body and your robe for blood stains, mud streaks, or anything else that would prove you were at the scene of the crime. Even if you showered after the murder, you might have missed a spot, just like you did with your sword." When Duncan tensed, Colin shook his head. "I'm pretending that I believe you're guilty here, remember? I don't really expect to find anything, but I have to look."
"Get his prints first," JL commented. "Then he can take a shower and wash the ink off before it sets."
"I think we have them already," Joe told Colin.
"Probably. But this is more official, anyway, and it will look great in the silly report I'm supposed to send in." Getting a stamp pad, Colin took an index card out of his pocket and expertly got a set of Duncan's prints. "I assume you found prints on the sword, JL?" he asked belatedly.
"Yes, boss," JL replied, busily transferring the prints from the katana to a stack of index cards using cellophane tape. "Lots." Duncan watched in fascination until Colin rested a hand on his shoulder. "Shall we get the rest of this over with?" he said. "Before Bryan shows up and offers to conduct the exam personally?"
Duncan almost smiled as he grabbed some clean clothes before preceding Colin into the bathroom. Taking off his robe, he tried to stand still while Colin looked him over. "All right," Colin said after a minute or two. "No blood, no mud. Told you I wouldn't find anything." Picking up Duncan's robe, Colin looked that over as well, but the fabric was clean. "Two for two," he said cheerfully. "Now I'll go check your sheets, duster, clothes, and shoes for traces of blood."
"And if you find any?" Duncan couldn't help asking.
"We'll run it through the lab and figure out whose it is," Colin replied. "I have a couple of friends on the force who'll run the samples during lunch if I promise to make it up to them. And Bryan can translate the results into English for us--JL told me that he recently dusted off his lab skills when he volunteered to help an AIDS research team."
Duncan nodded and turned on the water as Colin went back out to join the others. He stood under the hot water for almost an hour, images from his Dark Quickening passing in and out of his mind like thrusts from an opponent's sword. The buzz of an approaching Immortal snapped him out of his memories, and he dried off and dressed hurriedly. Emerging from the bathroom, he saw JL examining the dirty clothes in his hamper while Joe, Colin, and Methos stood around the kitchen island, deep in conversation. They stopped talking when he approached them, but Methos smiled warmly. "Morning, Mac," he said cheerfully. "Feeling better?"
"A little," Duncan confirmed. "I just hope we can end this thing before anyone else gets hurt."
"You know," Methos replied, "we were just discussing that very same thing."
"Did you come to any conclusions?" Duncan asked warily.
"Certainly," Methos said. "Tell him, Joe."
"Me?" Joe exc