This story was originally posted May 14, 2004 on Classic BC

On a rainy night in Georgia, the lives of twenty year old watcher Sue Danning, and her almost four thousand year old Immortal subject Eadgils collide in a way which will leave one of them dead, and the other changed, forever. Join Sue, Eadgils, and several others on their journey, as they experiance a meeting of minds.

Legal Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, Ok, I have a car that only has about fifteen more payments left on it, and I have a bunch of clothes and some cool electronic equipment like this computer I am using at the moment, and a minority interest in the house I live in which is mostly owned by the bank. Other than that, I own nothing. I most specifically DO NOT own the concept behind Immortals, nor any of the pre-existing Immortal characters which have slipped into this story. These are owned by Panzer/Davis, or whoever may of purchased/licensed them from their creators. Other characters from other universes owned by other companies may of wandered through as well, and again their appearance does not in any way imply ownership of them on my part. There is no copyright infringement intended. As far as the people I created, others are free to use them, I lay no claim of ownership to them either, I do however ask that you return them in the condition they were found, no added romantic/emotional entanglements or missing body parts (especially heads), please. Perhaps I own the general plot of the story it's self. However, I will allow anyone to archive it for free, as long as it is made available for free, this Disclaimer is included, that other than removing Prefaces and Author's Notes & re-attaching the parts the story is unmodified, and I am notified in advance of it's addition to the archive, and the archive's location. I hope you enjoy the story. Please refer to the story title in the subject line of ANY email you send me (be it flames, encouragement, wacky ideas, questions, etc.) otherwise my SPAM filter will delete your message. I answer ALL email, even flames, so if I don't respond, I never saw it, and you should try again.

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Meeting Of Minds
A Highlander Fan Fiction
by Dana Short
[email protected]
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Act I
Prologue
A Dark And Stormy Night

September 5, 2003, Savannah, Georgia.

The pattering sound of the rain echoed down the alley as Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef tribe, paused to listen for footsteps.

He heard a crunch as someone ducked behind a dumpster, but from the breathing, he was able to identify it as coming from The Girl. She was not one he had to fear, at least not yet.

The Girl had been following him off and on over the past several months. She was the latest in a long line of shadows, stretching back almost a thousand years, who had spent their time spying on him for their records. Once, long ago, he had captured one of them, and had learned of the Society of Watchers, a group of scholars, more than anything else, who saw it as their mission to chronicle the lives of all Immortals. According to the one he had caught all those years ago, they were sworn to watch, record, and most of all, to NEVER interfere.

In all the centuries they had been following him, he had never known them to break those vows. Even the one he had captured, when faced with death had remained steadfast in his vows. Eadgils had believed him enough to bind his wounds, feed him a meal, and release him with a warning for his fellows, that if they had to watch him, that it should be at a distance. Over time, he had slowly lowered his guard to the almost omnipresent pairs of eyes, to the point he no longer acted directly to lose them, and never bothered to warn them off, unless they got so close as to be actually rude. Then, of course he would answer their rudeness with his own, often scaring them away and earning a replacement.

The Girl was different though. He could feel her when she was close. For one of his age, he knew well what that meant. She would Quicken one day, and have to learn the ways of the ones she at present only watched. He did not envy her that task. In a way, she would have an advantage, knowing as she did of Immortals, and their rules. She would know enough at least to seek Holy Ground and to try to find a teacher.

He had even toyed with the idea of teaching her himself. It had been many years since he had taken a student. Indeed, it had been many centuries. As far as he knew, he had no students left in the Game. Perhaps he was not the best teacher after all.

But then again, he himself had survived far longer than most Immortals he knew of. Granted, he was no Methos, assuming he actually existed, but he was almost into his fortieth century. He had seen quite a bit since the Horsemen destroyed his village, leaving him to awaken among the corpses and the scattered refuse of his tribe. Since that time, he had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, starting with Rome, which he himself watched grow from a crossroads town to a city controlling an empire which spanned the known world.

But now, those same instincts which had served him well all his life were instead yelling at him that something was wrong.

Slowly, silently, he drew his sword, leaned against the wall, and waited.
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Chapter One
On a Rainy Night in Georgia
Sue Danning watched her subject from behind the concealment of a trash bin.

She had graduated from the Watcher Academy just a few months ago, following in her father's footsteps so to speak. All her life, it seemed, she had known about Immortals.

For as long as she could remember, she had known she would be a Watcher. Her first "assignment", working under her father had been watching the occasional Immortal as they passed through Los Angeles, after school, and occasionally during the days in the summers. The Society had found it useful to be able to toss a young girl on the trail of some of the more active Immortals, since she was able to blend almost effortlessly into a crowd. As long as she didn't get too close.

Long ago, she had learned the lesson of getting too close to her "subject".

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April 1998, Redondo Beach, California...

Fourteen year old Sue sat on the beach watching the man her Dad had told her was over two hundred years old. Funny, he didn't look a day over twenty. She was fortuitously well dressed for hanging out on the beach, in a bikini top, and jean shorts, her shoes simple sandals. She even had a towel to sit on.

Dugan Masters, her subject of this afternoon's observation was kind of cute. Sue looked across the beach as he stood along the line of damp sand, just a bit below the high-water line. He was dressed in a white shirt, and jeans, the cuffs rolled up, showing his naked ankles, and running-shoes. Seeming casual, with a large beach towel bunched and hanging over his shoulder in his left hand, he stood looking out at the ocean.

"I wonder where he has his sword" she thought, looking at the lines of his pants, and not incidentally deciding he had a cute butt. Suddenly she flushed red, and looked around to see if she could figure out why he was wandering the beach today. Earlier, he had eaten hot dogs, while she had had an ice cream. Obviously he was killing time, but now he seemed ready for something.

All of a sudden, Dugan tensed, and started looking around. His eyes settled on a dark-complexioned woman walking up the sand from his right, and he shifted his stance to face her.

Sue knew somehow that this was what he was here for. But why? The woman was old, looking to be in her thirties, although from Dugan's reaction Sue thought she must be another Immortal. That was when she noticed Dugan had shifted his grip on his towel. It was now hanging straight down from his right hand, trailing the ends on the sand. "Ah, so THAT is where he has his sword." She thought, nodding to herself.

Focusing her attention again on the approaching woman, she noticed that she also was carrying a large beach towel in her right hand, its ends dragging in the sand. "No! They aren't going to fight here, are they?" she thought suddenly as the two faced off on the moderately crowded beach under the shining summer sun.

Trying to look casual, she rose, plucking her towel from the sand as she got to her feet.

With a casual saunter, she angled down the sand, picking her way around other people, as she approached the two Immortals, hoping to get close enough to hear what was going on.

Dugan was saying something to the woman, who cocked her head and smiled at him prettily. She replied, with a gesture back behind herself, in the direction she had come from while shaking her head slightly.

Sue strolled closer, marking a point on the sand which would give her a good "excuse" to pass by them on her way back and forth to the water. Dropping her towel casually on her spot, she continued to saunter towards the couple, and on past into the water, but as she approached within a few feet, they both broke off in their conversation abruptly and simultaneously turned to face her.

"What do we have here" the dark skinned woman said in a dusky voice, her hand darting out to capture Sue's arm in a painful grip. "Hello Julie. Here to spy for your uncle?"

Sue writhed in her grip but said nothing, wondering why the woman called her Julie.

"Let her go Myra. She's just a child". Dugan told her.

"I don't like children." The woman said, tightening her grip. "Especially ones rude enough to follow me around and interrupt."

"Let her go, she has nothing to do with this. You know that as well as I do, she is not a part of the Game."

"She may not be playing yet, but that doesn't mean she won't be a problem for me later on. I believe in nipping problems in the bud." The woman replied.

"Nipping problems in the bud is one thing; cutting down the whole bush before it has had a chance to grow even one flower is another. LET HER GO." Dugan responded, the force in his last three words almost palpable.

"Fine." The woman said, casually tossing Sue back towards her towel. "Get out of here little girl, and tell your Uncle Yoseph that the next time he uses you to spy on me, someone will lose their head, Game or no Game."

Sue scrambled backwards in the sand, her heart pounding as she realized the honest and open threat in the woman's words. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she ran away to find the parking-lot, a pay phone, and her father. She had no idea how the woman knew about her father's co-worker Joe, or the Watchers, but she didn't care at the moment. She had had enough of Watching for today.

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Feeling a buzz from her pager, Sue pulled it off her hip, and flipped open the cover to read the message displayed within.

"REPORT TO HQ ASAP" was the short message from her supervisor. First there was the urgent status/location request an hour earlier while Eadgils or Ed as he was presently known, was eating dinner. Now she received an urgent call to report back to the local headquarters, for no apparent reason. She edged back from the dumpster, but as she did she caught a glimpse of someone entering from the other end of the alley. Hesitating, she took another look at her subject.

He had drawn his sword, and placed his back, literally against the wall. Something was up, and whatever was going on it was almost certainly chronicle material. Ed never drew his sword outside of practice.

Even as she crouched back down, she heard a crunch of gravel from BEHIND her, and peering over her shoulder, she saw the man approaching from her end of the alley, a gun ready in his hand. But, there was something else, as he passed her hiding place; she noticed the faint image of a Watcher tattoo on his wrist!

Looking back at the figure entering the alley from the other end, she noticed the outline of another gun. After a few moments of puzzlement, she put the pieces together, and realized what she was seeing: Hunters!

In her mind Hunters were among the worst vermin on the earth. They were Watchers who had not only broken their oaths, but had decided to actively kill Immortals. Worse, they did so indiscriminately, killing whatever Immortal they could identify and isolate. Apparently they were now after Ed.

"No" she called out, as she leapt at the nearest figure, hoping to wrest his gun from his hand. "Ed, Run! They want to kill you!"

Eadgils swung at the sound of her voice, unfortunately putting his back to the man coming from the other end of the ally. "What?" he called in confusion, raising his sword to a "Ready" position over his shoulder.

Sue had her hands on the gun, and was rolling away from the Hunter.

Ed, seeing the weapon, identified the Hunter as a threat, and lunged with his sword, ignoring the second man for the moment.

As his sword stabbed the Hunter through the chest, a shot rang out from behind him and Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef fell forward, dead.

Sue on the other hand was still alive. Now she was armed as well.

"Drop it" she said, pointing the now dead Hunter's gun at his partner.

"Bitch! What do you think you are doing?"

"Stopping you", Sue replied coldly.

"The Abomination must die. Don't you understand that?" he asked, pointing his own gun at her.

"No, I don't. It's not our place to interfere, you know that. How can you break your oath so easily?"

"A contract signed in ignorance or under false pretences is not binding. Neither is a so called Oath." He replied. "Now, lower the gun and perhaps I will let you leave here alive."

"I can't do that." She said. "I can't just stand by and let you kill him."

"Too bad", he said, and he pulled his trigger.

The pain which blossomed in her stomach was incredible. Reflexively, she squeezed off a shot of her own, as she fell, her body lying in the puddle of bloody water, mere inches from Ed, whose back was showing faint sparks as his Quickening worked on healing the hole made in him by the Hunter's bullet. As her vision faded, she saw the other Hunter climb back unsteadily to his feet, clutching a bleeding hole in his side. Slowly the Hunter dragged himself over to where Ed had dropped his sword, and picked it up.

Her last sight was of the Hunter lifting the sword. The last sound she heard was him crying "No! The abomination MUST die!"

She could no longer feel the pain in her stomach. She could no longer feel anything, and her last thought was that she had failed. Then there was just nothing, not even darkness.

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to be continued

Chapter 1 of 15

Originally posted on Classic BC May 22, 2004

Eadglis awakens in the alley to find he's not quite himself, or should that now be herself, anymore.

by Dana Short

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Coming back from the dead was never pleasant. Eadgils knew that from all too many personal experiences. The residual pain from the injury, the pain from the jolt of the heart starting, and the gasp of the first breath, awareness building suddenly and then, life was restored.

This time was no different. He felt the rocks and the asphalt gouging into his face as his convulsion ground it into the earth, his gasping breath filling his face with dirty water.

As he rolled over onto his back, he first noticed that he felt, wrong.

He laid there, looking up at the still drizzling sky, and thought back to his last few moments. The Girl had leapt out yelling at him to run, and was fighting with some man for a gun. He had stabbed at the man, and then the pain in his back. The other person, who had been entering from the opposite end of the ally. He had shot him in the back. After that, nothing. Or rather, not quite nothing. He also seemed to remember shooting the second man, and being shot in the stomach. Also dying, He remembered dying twice.

Never before had he remembered dying twice. The pain in his stomach was fading now. Finally. He took another deep breath, and moved to sit up. Once again was struck by how, wrong, everything was. Even now, he felt both weak, and light headed. His body was not moving properly, and the sensations were all wrong in different but subtle ways.

He spotted his sword, lying a few feet away, where it had dropped from the hand of the second assailant, now lying dead, slumped over another body. But that's not what stopped his brain. Rather it was what was just past his sword, lying askew in the bloody water. His head.

Blackness came up and again swallowed Eadgils, as he received the greatest shock in almost four thousand years.

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Spring 1,720 BC, Western Europe...

Eadgils heard the screams as he was returning from the stream with the filled water sacks.

Dropping the skins, he ran towards the sound, fearing the worst: raiders.

As he crested the rise, he could see the entire camp was being over-run by some sort of bandits. Changing his course, he dashed for his hut, hoping to get to his sword before one of the raiders could cut him off.

But alas, a sudden flair of pain in his side, and he looked up, seeing a man with light brown hair sitting astride a horse, lowering a bow.

Stumbling with the pain and a sudden loss of coordination, Eadgils fell face first into the dust and skidded to a halt, his last sight of this world being that of ants in the base of a small bush. The ants were milling around just as frantically as his fellow tribe folk.

Pain was what awoke him. Pain in his side. Pain on his face. Pain in his chest, and in his lungs. Pain.

As he sat up in the dust, he scraped the ants off his face, where they were biting away. Looking down at his side he saw the arrow, its tip still covered in crusty blood, which had recently been piercing his side. But now, he reached out with a trembling hand, and traced the whole, yet still sore skin beneath the bloody hole in his clothes.

Rising in a state of shock to his feet, he looked down the hill towards the course filled wreckage, which was all that remained of his tribe, and its camp.

Stories filtered through his head. Stories of zombies, people raised from the dead for the purpose of exacting vengeance. Now he realized they must be true. When he had been learning the stories from the Speaker, that he might tell them in turn through the years to come, he had little suspected they might actually be true. But there was no other explanation he could come up with. He must have been brought back to exact vengeance on the army who had slain his people. Why him, and not one of the stronger warriors, he had no idea. Granted, he was competent with a sword, and could usually hit at least the edge of a stationary target with a bow, but he was no trained fighter. He was trained to be a Speaker, a keeper of the lore and wisdom of his tribe.

For hours he sorted through the wreckage, salvaging whatever he could find of use. He found no weapons, other than the occasional broken spear, ax, or arrow imbedded deeply in a corpse. Over the next few days, he buried as best he could the bodies of his people. Then he gathered what supplies he had rescued and followed in the direction the raiders' tracks lead, towards the plains.

Over the next few days, he saw nothing but destruction left in the wake of the raiders. They would apparently stop to camp occasionally, then move on. Where they had passed, nothing was left intact or alive.

It was on the tenth day of his slow trek he found the slave. Apparently he had been captured by the raiders some time in the past, and used as a porter. When the raiders had camped here, he had managed to escape, and was now fleeing in the opposite direction, figuring wherever they had been was the least likely place they would go. The slave told him the raiders referred to themselves as the Four Horsemen. The one who had shot him with the arrow, the pale rider on the pale horse was known simply as Death. He also learned one other thing, the horsemen could not die. The slave himself had seen Kronos stabbed with a spear. He had seen with his own eyes as the wound closed and life returned. Kronos then tortured and killed the man who had stabbed him.

Leaving the slave behind, Eadgils continued his pursuit, slowly gaining on Death and his raiders. A few days later, he came upon the wreckage of a farm. The livestock was slaughtered, the home toppled, but there were two survivors. There was a young girl and an older woman. He found them huddling in the wreckage of the house. The woman cried in fear upon seeing him, and moved as best she could with her lame leg to shelter the girl. "Go away" she cried.

It took Eadgils a while to soothe the old woman, but finally he got her to tell her tale.

"Raiders. I was at the millstone, grinding wheat with two of my children. My husband was working the field with the older boys, while my eldest daughter was here, in the house. I heard the noise, and ran to help, Jer ran ahead. They killed him. I fell, and twisted my ankle. Sar stayed with me, and they didn't see us in the bushes. All I could do was hold Sar and watch as they took Jess, and killed everyone else. Like locusts they were. Killing and destroying. Everything is gone. Everyone is dead. I hope Jess is dead as well. It would be better for her."

"Well, I can't leave you here by yourself. Have you any neighbors who could take you in until you are healed?"

"No. Closest person could maybe stand to help, who'd not just as soon as kill us, would be Lord Ralas. Has an estate only a 2 day walk to the north, along the creek. Folks call him 'Protector', He should know about the Raiders anyhow."

North was not the way he wanted to head, the Raiders were headed east. But he could no more leave this woman and her child to die than he could kill them himself.

So they journeyed North, following the course of the water, what would have been a good half-day's ride, or a normal 2 day walk, but with the old woman's lame leg, the trip took them a good five days before they arrived at a small stone keep. There they were greeted by a man with a sword.

Eadgils stood there, wondering at the peculiar tingling in his head, as the man walked up to him and spoke "I am Ralas, protector of these lands. Do you come to challenge me?"

"Uh, no, I come to deliver this old woman and her child into your care. Their family and home were destroyed by raiders." Eadgils replied.

The man was silent for a few moments, looking Eadgils up and down. "Do you not know what you are then?" Ralas asked.

Eadgils flushed. "I know. I did not think it showed, but I know. I am a Vengeance Zombie, brought back to avenge the death of my tribe. With the raiders of Death and the other three of the Four Horsemen. How could you tell?"

Ralas threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Vengeance Zombie! That's one I've never heard."

"What do you mean?" Eadgils asked, sparking a renewal of Ralas's laughter.

After his laughter finally died down, Ralas said "I was born close to three hundred years ago. I died my first death in a battle, and awoke as my friends were trying to bury me. Since then I have died several more times, but each time I will rise again, for like you, I am an Immortal. As such, I can not be truly killed, save by having someone take my head. I also am bound to live by three rules, passed on to me by my teacher. Rules followed by ALL Immortals. Rule 1, All combat must be one-on-one. Rule 2, No Fighting on sacred ground, regardless of the validity of the god, goddess, or other religion. And Rule 3, In the end, there can be only One. Come inside, and we will talk. It is time I also took a student, and I like the looks of you."

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Awareness came again to Eadgils, but unlike rising from the dead, this time it was more like wakening from a sleep. Oh, there was still pain, his entire head hurt, especially the back part, where it had slammed against the asphalt, and his stomach was still a bit sore, but other than that, it was more a case of gradually becoming aware again of the world around him, such as the slow drizzle of rain still falling against his upturned face, the sounds of the water falling around him in the ally, and the still somehow wrong feel of his body against the ground.

Opening his eyes again, he sat up once more, then braced himself before turning to look again at his sword, and his decapitated head lying just beside it. His head. This prompted him to finally look down at his body. It took only instants for his brain to sort the imagery coming from his eyes into a coherent world view, altering forever his paradigm for the universe. As he had known from the time he saw his head lying on the ground, he was no longer himself, but was somehow someone else. What his simple glance down told him was who he had somehow become. He was now The Girl. But no, that wasn't right. A part of his mind, like the part which earlier provided the memory of being shot in the stomach, this time offered up a name. Sue. Sue Danning. His eyes focused on the light blue tattoo on his left wrist, and added the title Sue Danning, Watcher.

Unsteadily he got to his feet, and reached down for his sword. Picking it up, he marveled at how heavy it now seemed. But despite the weight, there was no way he could just leave it behind. He'd carried that particular sword for almost eight hundred years, and he liked it.

He took a final look around at the scene of his death, taking in the three bodies, one stabbed, one shot, and one both shot and decapitated, the gunshot wound almost fully healed. "Wonder what the police will make of this?" he thought to himself. Then, he turned, and made his way out the front of the ally, heading towards his, no, make that Her, car.

Finding Sue's car was not hard, he had seen the gray Geo Metro following him many times, and at the same time remembered driving it all those times. It was sort of confusing. But the important thing was that he had the keys in Sue's purse, and that he get away before someone showed up. With any luck the lateness of the night, the ongoing rainstorm, and the fact that this was a business, and not a residential district would keep this scene undiscovered until morning.

After starting the car and pulling it into the street, Eadgils paused to try and think about where to go. He could see a few choices. He could go to either his, or Sue's home. The police would soon be arriving at his home however, as soon as his body was discovered. They liked to do things like that. So that was not a good place to stay. On the other hand, if there was anything he needed to retrieve, now was likely his last opportunity. His Laptop for one, along with the papers and money from the safe. That would be enough. Everything else was either replaceable or insignificant as far as immediate survival was concerned.

Pulling up on the block behind his house, he parked in the driveway. No one knew it, aside from possibly the Watchers, but he actually owned both the house he lived in, as well as this one. He had always felt a need to protect his back, and this was an easy way to do it. It also gave him a place to store things he might not want in his actual home, but wanted to keep close at hand. When he had moved in to the adjoining lots, he had replaced the large chain-link fence with a shorter, wide-slat wooden fence. He also made sure one particular pair of slats were hung only by a single nail at the top, allowing them to be swung apart, and back together to form an otherwise invisible "gate" between the two back yards.

Entering the back house using a key located under a grate in the foundation, he proceeded into the den, uncovered and opened the safe, and got a spare set of keys to his real house. Closing back the safe, and sliding the filing cabinet back on top, he proceeded into the kitchen, where he pulled out a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves, and plucked a flat tipped screwdriver from a utility drawer.

He then headed out the back door, across the yard, through the slats, leaving the opening half closed, in case he had to make a hasty retreat, and entered his back door.

First things first, he turned on the perimeter alarm. Installed years ago so he could sleep easier, it monitored the perimeter of both the properties via a system of motion detectors, infrared light beams, and roof mounted cameras which watched the street.

Next, he started making a pile by the rear door; first off was his laptop, laptop case, and backup hard drive. He then pulled the USB drives off his desktop, and added them to the pile after placing them into a duffel bag.

He then went to his bedroom, and rolled the television stand out of the corner. Pulling the pegged sections of the baseboards away from the wall, he was able to fold back the corner of the carpet, exposing the flat wooden cover over his floor safe, matched to the same wood pattern of the rest of the floor. It was quick work to insert the screwdriver and lift the cover, enter the digital combination, and open the safe.

Rising, he went to the closet, and dug out a small black daypack, and carried it back over to the safe.

From the safe he extracted the deed for the back house and the titles for his properties in California, Nevada, Washington, New York, Florida, and Texas, all of which were in different false names, none of which would be very usable given his new condition, but as it was just a matter of signing the deed, he should be able to easily transfer them to any new identities he may set up. He also withdrew all the documentation for his other alternate identities, as well as most of the cash, leaving a few hundred just so the safe wouldn't look completely empty if it was somehow discovered. Closing up the lid, he replaced the cover, folded back the carpet, and shoved the baseboards back into the wall, before sliding the television back into its customary spot. He looked at the gun box on the nightstand, and shook his head the weapon was legally registered to this identity, it would be worse to have it than not in most circumstances. Besides, he had more weapons stashed away in the back house.

Grabbing the daypack, he headed back to the rear room, dropped the backpack on top of the duffel bag holding the hard drives, and went back to the Security Console where he had started his visit. Checking to verify there still hadn't been any alarms he hadn't heard, he proceeded to delete the entries for the rear house from the front house's alarm system. Since all the devices in the whole system used digital two way communications it wasn't hard to deregister the devices not associated with this property. The resulting security perimeter would have a suspicious hole right along the back fence, but hopefully no one would notice and get suspicious. It was as he was finishing this up that the front motion detectors chirped. Looking at the camera display, he saw a police car had stopped in front of the house.

His heart leaping in his chest in a manner he had not experienced since he was a kid, but he put the sudden rush of fear aside, and calmly finished his work on the alarm, and verifying both officers were still in front of the house, just getting out of their car in fact, backed to the door, gathered the laptop case, duffel bag of hard drives, and the backpack of papers. Staining against the unanticipated weight of the load, he glanced again at the display, seeing one cop standing by the car, while the second was approaching the door. He backed through the rear door and set down the duffel, to close the door and lock it as quietly as possible. He then picked back up the duffel, and made his way back to the rear fence, swinging first the duffel, then the laptop case, and finally the backpack through the hole in the fence.

A final glance over his shoulder, and he climbed through himself, then as slowly and quietly as possible slid the board back closed.

Leaving the hard drives and laptop for the moment, he went back into the rear house, and powered up it's Security Console, identical in every way to the one in the front home, other than the fact that it still had the devices for the rear house registered as well as the front house.

As the display came on, it showed one officer at the front door, while the second was beginning to look at the side gate. It would be a challenge for anyone to climb it, so the odds were the officer wouldn't even try.

The officer at the front was apparently ringing the bell.

Eadgils went ahead and remotely armed the alarm system.

Leaving the knapsack on the floor, he glanced again, verified the second officer hadn't decided to try climbing the security gate, and headed back out to pick up the laptop and hard drives from the ground by the back fence.

Computer equipment retrieved, he shuttled it out to Sue's car in three trips.

According to the Security Console, the police were standing over by their car, one of them talking on the radio. Probably reporting the lack of answer, and asking for instructions.

He then picked up his sword, and turned to the basement of the house, where he kept his so called Armory. Unlocking the door at the top of the basement stairs, he flipped on the lights, closing the door behind himself.

He headed down the stairs, and looked at the array of weaponry scattered along the walls. He had a selection of rifles, some collapsible for camping, which could also be put to use for sniper purposes if need be; a few shotguns, including one "Street Sweeper", as well as several hunting types; and several handguns, both revolvers and automatics. There was also a Tempest air pistol, a Chinese made air rifle, along with both a full sized and a Trident hand sized crossbows.

However, firearms were not his immediate need, instead he turned to the back wall, and looked over the gleaming array of swords, knives, and other "Cutlery" pegged to the wall. He had already figured just from lifting it that his old sword, which he had carried for almost 800 years, would no longer work for him. He needed something much shorter and lighter. As he had explained to his students over and over through the centuries, a sword was not just a sharp piece of metal one waved around it needed to be a part of the wielder, so much so that it was an extension of the arm, albeit a very sharp and pointy one.

Most of the weapons on the wall were, well, trophies. Weapons wielded by losers who had come for his head at one time or another. One of them should be small and light enough for this body.

Starting with a rapier, he silently took down one sword after another, and swung them through some moves. It was here he ran into another problem. While this body was somewhat more flexible than his had been, it was not properly conditioned for wielding a heavy sword. Only a few swings, and there was a burn in the muscles. Tendons were tweaked, and even the bones creaked. On the eleventh sword however, he found a weapon he could wield. It was a katana, taken from a short, slightly built Japanese Immortal almost one hundred and fifty years before, when the man had come for his head in the middle of the night.

Apparently, the man had spied on Eadgils for some time, and decided a 3 AM attack was his best chance. It was the headhunter's last mistake. Even then, long before the days of electric eye beams and motion detectors, Eadgils had had a preference for security systems. Granted, more often than not, all they warned of were mice, but that time it was a much larger rat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 1865 AD, Paris France...

The tinkle of a bell woke him.

"Merde!" he murmured, rolling off the bed, and fishing his 650 year old sword from beneath it while rolling to his feet in one smooth, practiced move.

The pale moonlight coming in through the small window on the far side of the room did not show much, but a quick sweep of his eyes verified the bedroom was clear of unwanted guests.

Moving to the door, carefully not stepping around the several squeak-boards he had in his floor, and stepping over the three bell-laden trip threads, like the one which had woken him, he moved to a position behind the bedroom door, but far out enough that the wooden block on the floor would prevent its arc from hitting him were it slammed open.

Leaning against the wall, he held his breath and forced his heartbeat to almost stop, a trick he had trained himself in over a thousand years before, while studying with the priests in what was now known as India.

As total silence descended on him, he reached out with his ears, and felt with his bare feet and the open hand pressed against the wall for any slightest hint of there. Someone was moving in the front room. Each soft, careful tread was like a drumbeat to the hypersensitive Immortal behind the door. Then, almost suddenly enough to elicit a resumption of his normal heartbeat, the edge of a Quickening brushed against his mind.

He believed from the strength of it that the other Immortal approaching his room was relatively young, for the power was not great, but it was enough to tell him the other had to be a Headhunter. As if his stealthy nocturnal visit wouldn't have provided that identification in any case.

Still, he kept his body as still as possible, leaning against the wall, not breathing, and his heart more still than active, beating only often enough to maintain consciousness in the Immortals perfectly focused mind.

The approaching Headhunter chose a squeaky board to step on, and froze for a few moments to see if he had given himself away. Still not hearing anyone stirring in the bedroom, he moved on.

Eadgils felt him approach the door, moving much more cautiously now. The latch opened, and the hinges of the door squeaked as the Headhunter attempted to stealthily open it.

Giving up all attempts at stealth as the "Skreee" sound rang out in the stillness of the house, the intruder shoved with all his might on the door and leapt through the threshold hollering "Keiah!"

As the door slammed against the wooden block and rebounded, Eadgils released his trance, took a deep breath, allowed the adrenalin to flood his system, and pushed the door back the way it had come.

The door slammed back, catching the Headhunter between it and the frame, before groaning back towards the wall.

Eadgils stepped boldly around the door, and placed his sword against the throat of the small man he found standing dazedly in the doorway with a look of pain on his face.

In the near darkness Eadgils finally spoke in French. " Je suis Eadgils, dernier raconteur de la tribu de Flornlef. Qui tes-vous, et pourquoi avez-vous choisi cette nuit-ci et ma maison pour mourir la derni re fois? (I am Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef tribe. Who are you, and why have you chosen this night and my house to die for the final time?)"

The slight man took a stabilizing breath, recovering from the total shock of his plan failing so utterly, and stepped back, away from the sword at his neck, and into the larger room behind him. His step disturbed another of the pesky bell-laden threads, and also was accompanied by a squeak from the floor.

Softly he said in badly accented French saying essentially, "I am Toshio Matsumura. I am a warrior of honor, and I have come to take your head."

Eadgils replied "Honor enough to come into my house like a thief in the night. Perhaps even honor enough to die on your feet. At least you have enough honor not to run screaming from here like a woman. But I fear you have not enough honor to leave here with your head on your shoulders in any case. But let us see who has how much honor."

Toshio took another step back, and pulled a gleaming katana from his scabbard, took up a ready position, and called "Hi!"

With a single stride, Eadgils followed him into the room, and took the first swing, a diagonal slice from his top right towards his bottom left, and blocked easily by Toshio's blade.

As they continued trading blows, Eadgils grew a grudging respect for Toshio's style. Unlike most of the opponents he had faced in his 3,600 years, Toshio was graceful and polished, each move flowing seamlessly into the next, speaking of many hours of drilling and practicing moves over and over until they came without thought.

But, as Eadgils reflected to himself, the problem with fighting without thought was that you always did the same thing when your opponent moved in a certain way. The key to defeating such a practiced swordsman was to learn his moves, chose one, trigger it, and then defeat it. So it was that he spun and thrust, eliciting the same swinging block from Toshio as the last several times he used that move, and as Toshio's blade moved down, Eadgils pulled his back, then lunged forward with his whole body as Toshio's blade passed his by, and thus impaled Toshio on the tip of his sword. A quick withdrawal and he watched as Toshio dropped his blade, and fell to his knees.

"A good, and honorable fight, Toshio," he said, "despite its dishonorable beginning. And now you die."

With that, Eadgils brought his blade around in a move practiced hundreds of times over the past several thousand years, and removed Toshio's head from his body.

As the head bounced on the ground and rolled to his left, the torso fell on its back, and the Quickening began to leak into the surrounding environs. Eadgils looked about his living room and muttered "Damn. I liked this place."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Picking up his own sword, he found a place on the wall, and added it to the "Collection", using the same pins as Toshio's Katana had been hung on.

He added a pair of special carbon-fiber knives, one of them a large Bowie the other one a smaller Stiletto, which while visible on X-Ray would not set off any metal detectors thus making them good backup weapons in these days of places where they frown on such things as people carrying swords or other weapons.

Thusly armed, he retreated up the stairs, and back towards the car.

A quick stop at the security console told him the police were sitting in the car, probably waiting for either backup to help them access the house or stake it out and wait for someone to show, or morning to come so they could canvas the neighbors. He didn't know which, but with three dead bodies, and only his ID as a clue of where to begin, he would bet on the former rather than the later.

Of course, there was the question of evidence left at the scene by Sue. He couldn't think of anything, other than blood which had been left behind, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. He had Sue's purse and the gun used to shoot the Hunter, but there was always evidence of some sort which was overlooked at the scene of any crime even by the investigators.

In any case, it was time to get out of town. Making a detour to the bedroom, he dug up an old jacket, and carried it along with the weapons out to the car, turning off the security system and locking the door, replacing the emergency key, on his way out.

========================== ==========================

He stood there, contemplating his reflection in the mirror. The girl looked about 19...,

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Turning onto the street, he headed away from Savannah and towards Atlanta. Somewhere there he could find a hotel where he could stop to sleep and regroup.

Three hours, and almost two hundred miles later, as the first crack of dawn began to show in his rearview mirror, he turned off of Highway 75, and headed for a Motel 6, its glowing sign proclaiming a Vacancy, and a $29.99 nightly rate.

Pulling into the parking lot, he got out of the car, pulling the jacket on, ostensibly against the damp chill early morning, but in reality to cover the blood. As it was, there was nothing to be done about the blood on the black jeans, but at lest the jacket would cover the bloodstained shredded top.

Approaching the window, he tapped to get the attention of the sleepy attendant.

"Uh, can I help you?" she asked, her muffled voice coming out from behind the thick security glass.

"Yes, I need a room. I was trying to get to Atlanta, but I am just too tired to go on." Eadgils responded.

"Ok, Smoking, or non-smoking? Just fill out this card" she said, sliding the registration out through the glass.

"Non-smoking, please. What is check-out time?"

"Eleven AM. If you want to stay longer than that, I'm afraid I'll have to charge you for two days."

"Lets make it two days then." He replied. "I doubt if I will be ready to resume driving in just five or six hours."

"Probably not. I wish I could give you an extended check out, but we are a new location and frankly the manager is a jerk about things like that."

"I understand. Uh, for the room charge, would cash be ok?" Eadgils asked, waving three $20 bills.

"Uh, sure. You will be in room 2152. That is around back, on the second floor. Just head out the door, and go all the way around to your left. Take the first set of stairs on the back, and it will be the sixth room, I believe."

"Thanks", Eadgils said, retrieving the change and the keycards, along with a little map and the printout of the registration.

"Have a nice night." The girl at the counter called out as Eadgils turned to head back to the car.

Ten minutes later, He had the laptop, Katana, knives, and the small bag of Sue's "Emergency Supplies" from the trunk transferred into his room.

He was finally able to settle down for a few moments, and gather his thoughts. Up until this time, he had been operating, not so much on "Auto-Pilot", but certainly in "Crisis Mode". Now he finally had a chance to evaluate the situation without the urgency of dealing with the immediate situation. He hadn't really had a chance to do so on the drive out here, having been hyper-alert in order to avoid the complications of a police stop, or any sort of traffic accident. For the last two hours, he also really had been fighting exhaustion, as well. Thus, he had been unable, or unwilling, to allow his mind to dwell on the circumstances of the situation. His focus had been entirely on getting through.

First things first though. He set the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside of the door, and closed and double locked the door, sliding on the security chain, before moving the room's chair up against the door, and placing the one of the two plastic cups upside down at the top of the chair, leaning against the door. He then filled the other glass half-way, and balanced it on top of the empty glass, with a sheet of paper in between. The idea was that anyone actually opening the door would disturb the chair, and topple the glasses; the water hitting the paper would make enough sound to wake him.

Not as secure as an electronic system, or even squeaky boards and threads strung with bells, but it was ample for the situation.

Pulling the curtains closed, he left the Katana on the dresser beside the TV, and carried Sue's Emergency Supply bag into the small bathroom.

Finally, he stood there, contemplating his reflection in the mirror.

This was really the first time he got a truly good look at The Girl. She was 19, as he had known, but she looked like she could be anywhere from 16 to mid 20s, depending on her expression. In the back of his mind were actual makeup tricks which he knew could make her appear as young as possibly 14, or as old as 30, depending on how it was applied and how she dressed.

She had long, dark hair, currently a matted mess, from the bloody water it had soaked in several hours earlier, and its lack of care since then. It was pulled back, however in a messy pony-tail, which reached a bit more than half-way down her back. Again from the back of his mind filtered out the information that untied, it would reach a bit past her waist, but not quite to her hips, in the back stopping just above her butt. It was longer than her instructors in physical combat had liked it at the Academy, but she had been growing it out all her life, and couldn't bear to cut it. They had warned her about the dangers of long hair in combat, but had let it go at that, although not without a few painful demonstrations of how it could be grabbed at any time and used as a tool to somewhat control her and her head.

Her eyes were a light green, her mouth full, and her nose rather small. He knew she thought her ears stuck out too far, but as far as he could see, they were perfect for her face, and added with her other features made her on the cute side of fetching, just short of gorgeous.

Her body was slender and athletic, but with plenty of curves. Again the information filtered out as he took in her frame. 5'6, and 130 pounds. Looking over the wide, full breasts he knew they were a 34C, while the narrow waist was 26 inches, to her hip's 35 inches.

Her legs were long and athletic, well toned from lots of running. All in all a very pretty girl in the fresh faced girl next door look as it was called these days.

But how could he be her. It didn't make any sense. He had been around for almost 4,000 years, and never in all that time had he heard of one Immortal somehow coming to possess another one. Such a thing should not be possible, and yet it had happened. Oh, if only Darius was still around. A sudden piece of information popped into his mind that Darius had been killed by Hunters. That was something he hadn't known. He had always wondered how it came to be that Darius could lose his head on Holy Ground. Much like his own situation, such a thing just didn't happen. Oh, some Immortals would occasionally break the one-on-one rule, but the proscription against fighting on Holy Ground - there was the rumor about Vesuvius as well to consider. It was said a fight had occurred on Holy Ground there, and rather than stop when they felt the warning they had continued to battle until the mountain itself exploded. He himself had once started a fight on Holy Ground, some forgotten shrine to some obscure roman god stolen from the Greeks. He had met some merchant who wanted his head, and wouldn't be dissuaded. Even the pain as they drew swords did not deter him. After the first two blows, both fighters had found themselves on the ground with massive headaches. Apparently that pain was the second warning a pair of Immortals would get for violating The Rule, the first being the ringing in the ears at the first drawing of weapons. The rumor went on that any attempt to continue combat without moving would result in some cataclysm, which would certainly stop the fight. He had never wanted to test that theory, the headache that one time had been enough of a lesson to last literally thousands of years.

So now he knew the truth about the death of Father Darius. He also now knew the Hunters responsible for that were supposedly dead themselves, executed by the Watchers. Well, the Hunters responsible for him were dead as well. But in both cases, there must be more to it. Someone still in the Watchers must be associated with the Hunters. Otherwise how could they have found him.

His mind again offered up a memory. Of Sue getting the page requesting her status/location an hour before his attack, and then the second, even more suspicious page, demanding her to report to HQ immediately before the Hunters showed up. Granted, if they were trying to get her out of the way, their timing was a bit off, however the more likely possibility was that they were trying to simply flush her out so they could kill her. But the identities or motivations of the other parties involved in his death and Sue's Quickening didn't really help him to answer the bigger question, namely how he could have ended up in her body?

Over the years, he had taken hundreds of Quickenings. Literally so many he could not count them all. One blurred into another, after so many. Oh, he could recall individual ones, but as far as providing a full accounting, no. One might as well ask a Mortal how many days they had worked two years before. They could possibly figure it out with the help of a journal, or a calendar, but off the top of their heads, an educated guess would be all most people could come up with.

Of those, he had on occasion had strong ones, ones which had impacted him in some way. After he fought Toshio, for example, his repertoire included several new moves, including many he had not seen in the fight, they just came to him. Also, after taking an Immortal's head, learning to speak a language spoken by that particular Immortal was usually much easier.

On one occasion, he had suddenly acquired a new appreciation for music. Or an almost rabid distaste for the Vikings, who before he could really not of cared less about, as long as they left him alone.

He knew of course about Darius's Quickening, wherein he took the head of the Defender of Pairs, a holy man, and abruptly resigned from his position as General to become a priest himself. A Light Quickening, as Darius had called it himself, describing the event as a true awakening, realizing how evil he had been his whole life, how much pain he had caused, and feeling a great need to atone for his actions.

He had also heard of Dark Quickenings, wherein a otherwise decent Immortal took someone's head, and promptly switched from being a passive participant to a more active participant in the "Game", actually seeking out other Immortals, and challenging them until someone took the new Headhunter's own head. But it usually stopped there. It wasn't like there was some overpowering force passing from Immortal to Immortal through the Quickening... The Quickening.

Suddenly, another memory jumped vividly to the forefront of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 2002, Watcher Academy, Outside Paris, France...

Sue sat in the class, listening to the discussion about the Quickening. Fortunately, this class was in English, not in French, as some of them were. If it hadn't been for her lifelong awareness of the subjects being taught, coupled with her already acquired first-hand experience with the procedure involved in Immortals and the Watching thereof, she would have been lost several times.

This time, however, she had another problem in following the class. A handsome young researcher named Adam Pierson, who was "Auditing" the class. Adam was apparently the Watcher assigned to the Methos Chronicles. Why he was sitting in on a class about the nature of Quickenings she was not sure. But she certainly didn't mind, as he was so easy on the eyes. Especially when he looked up at her and smiled.

Or maybe she did mind, she realized she had totally spaced on what the instructor was saying. Refocusing her attention and trying to ignore the hunk next to her, she tried to catch up.

"Now, we know from the environmental effects that the Quickening is some sort of electromagnetic phenomenon. It will cause many of the same destructive results as a lightning strike in many cases. While the brunt of the energy does discharge from the dead Immortal to the survivor, it definitely makes for a hazardous area to be in during the event.

"Often times any electronics in the area will simply overload and short out. It is also not unknown for any combustible material, including wood to ignite, or even explode. Pressure changes will almost always shatter any near-by glass, and St. Elmo's Fire will cover just about everything in the neighborhood.

"This is one of the reasons you never want to get too close to your subjects, especially when they are fighting. While the urge is to get a blow-by-blow description of the combat for the chronicle, the reality is that any Watcher who gets too close, will likely get shocked, or even killed by the Quickening."

One of the students in the front raised his hand.

"Yes, Stephen?" the instructor asked.

"Uh, do you mean some Watchers have been hit by Quickenings?"

"Some have. Most didn't survive. Those who did were usually burnt. As far as we could tell from the post-mortems on their bodies, they were killed the same as if they had been hit by lighting."

"Uh, did the ones who survived, uh, did they get any power or whatever from it? I don't mean like super-powers so they could see through walls or anything, but like I heard that Immortals get some sort of power from Quickenings."

"Power. Well, the Quickenings defiantly include power. The strength of a Quickening, for example, is a factor of the accumulated age of the given Immortal, AND the cumulative strength of all the Quickenings which that particular Immortal has collected over his life. So the Quickening of a thousand year Immortal may be equivalent to that of a two hundred year old one who has killed several others of his kind or even of a thirty year Immortal who has bested a fifteen hundred year old one.

"One thing we do know, is there is a loss of the Quickening with every transfer. Energy is lost creating the violent displays, shorting out electronics, lighting the sky, fusing the sand into glass, whatever. So that same thirty year old if he lost his head would not put on quite as good of a show as the original fifteen hundred year old Immortal did when he fell."

Another student raised her hand from where she sat on the other side of Adam.

"Yes Yvette?"

With a flirtatious glance at Adam, she asked "So what if Methos was around, and lost his head. I mean, he is supposedly like five thousand years old, and was a Headhunter for a long time. What kind of Quickening would he have?"

Adam sent the instructor an apologetic glance and buried his face in his arms on his desk, to hide his expression.

The instructor answered. "Well, again, since the Quickening is a function of both age, and accumulated other Quickening, it would be quite a show. Adam, Methos is really your project, what would you say?"

Adam unburied his head, took a breath, and said in a oddly accented voice, "Well, the lack of just such a display is the reason I believe Methos may still be out there somewhere, likely hiding on Holy Ground. I mean, any Immortal who successfully beat him, would have set off a show so big it would have been recorded SOMEWHERE, unless it was out in the middle of nowhere. But even then, when they lost their own head, the big show would have happened again, although to a lesser extent, unless it was also an old, or powerful Immortal involved."

"Thank you Adam. Now as far as other power, beyond electrical, we don't really know. We have seen that Quickenings can affect the personalities of our subjects, but to what extent we can't say."

A third student, somewhere behind Sue apparently raised their hand at this point, because the Instructor sighed, and said "Yes, Je n?"

"Est la perte, pardon, Is ze lost of energy from ze medua of ze transmission?"

"You mean is it a factor of how far away the other Immortal is, and what is around them? I believe so. I do know that the further away a victor is from the body of the loser, the less of the Quickening actually reaches them. Unfortunately, due to Father Darius, we also now know that in the case where there is no other Immortal nearby the energy will entirely dissipate environmentally. And as far as environmental conditions, we do know that the more metal in an area, the more it seems to distract, or divert the Quickening away from the remaining Immortal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was suddenly struck by two entirely unrelated realizations.

First, the condition of the alley, where he had lost his head, so to speak, was unlike the area of any previous Quickening he had encountered. There was no shattered glass, no smoldering fire, nothing to indicate a great release of energy. But also, unlike any Quickening he knew of, both participants were within inches of one another, laying totally still, and more importantly, both were partly submerged in dirty, even bloody water. Water which could have acted as a sort of conductor, it was certainly a better one than the air which was the usual medium of exchange for an Immortal's Quickening. In such a case, perhaps what happened was almost like a phone cable connecting two computers, allowing an almost perfect exchange of information, as opposed to a wireless connection, where damaged and lost packets have to be sent over and over before they arrived properly. The water may have allowed his entire Quickening to flow directly into The Girl. That was how he was here. But if that was the case, then where was The Girl?

The other realization was almost more important, at least it was to him. After almost 4,000 years, Death still lived. Now he had a name; Adam Pierson. More importantly, Death was associated with the Watchers. Which was where the Hunters came from. The Hunters who killed Darius, and who, after over 3,700 years, had finally finished the job Death had started one clear spring day of killing Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef tribe. For surely he was dead, however alive he thought he was. He had lost his head.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted to Classic BC on May 31, 2004

He was walking in a long hallway. Along the sides were doors. As far as he could see to the front, the hallway stretched on for hundreds of doors before ending at a distant wall, but to his rear there was just one door, but it, unlike all the ones on the sides of the hall, was only partly closed.

by Dana Short

Rather than spend more time dwelling on such morbid considerations as the validity of his death, he decided to get a quick shower, followed by some much needed sleep.

Stripping off his bloody clothes, he tied the shirt up in the plastic liner from the trashcan, and tossed it next to Sue's Emergency kit, while hanging the pants over the side of the shower stall. He then removed the sports bra, underwear, and socks, until naked.

Stepping into the shower, he paused first to adjust the temperature to something neither chilling, nor burning. A quick sluice of his body, and he bent over and lifted the now sopping wet jeans up under the spray. He watched the reddish-brown water draining off them for a few moments, before draping the pants over one arm, and using both hands to open the little blue packet of complementary soap, tossing the wet paper back over the top of the stall to land somewhere on the floor of the bathroom.

A few moments spent massaging the soap with his hands, and he then ran the soap over the outside of the pants a few times to lather them somewhat, before again placing them under the stream of water to rinse the soap, and hopefully the rest of the blood, or at least the worst of the blood, off them.

Futilely coiling them to wring them out, then letting water soak in again and repeating the squeegee process a second time, and he was done and ready to drape the tops of the pants over the top of the stall, so they'd be out of the way.

Part of his mind cringed, as he again lathered the soap up, only this time working the soap into his equally blood-soaked hair.

There was a lot of hair, he realized, as he belatedly and painfully pulled the sopping scrunchie out, and tossed it after the soap wrapper.

However, after a few moments, he felt he had done as good a job as possible of getting the worst of the blood out. A final rinse, and sluice of his entire body, and he turned off the shower and stepped out, right on the cold, wet scrunchie.

"Blech" he said, bending over and plucking the dripping elastic cloth from between his toes, then tossing it on the sink and grabbing a towel from the rack by the door.

A quick over-all with the painfully rough towel, and he dropped it to the floor before grabbing a second one, with which he automatically wrapped his hair, before noticing he had done so.

A quick check of the Emergency kit turned up a small bottle of shampoo, one of conditioner, a brush, two more scrunchies, a really large t-shirt, a spare sports bra, two pairs of panties, and a roll containing another pair of black jeans, and a dark maroon top.

Selecting one of the pairs of panties, and the oversized t-shirt, he quickly and again, almost automatically dressed for bed. He then unwrapped his hair, gave it a vigorous rub with a third towel, then swiftly brushed it out, and tied it, still damp, into a loose braid before turning to the bed.

Just before laying down on the bed he turned back to the dresser, and picked the Katana up to carry over to lay at the right side of the bed on the floor. He then finally turned off the lights, and in the gloom broken slightly by the sunrise trying to peek through the closed curtains, he went to sleep.

He was walking in a long hallway. Along the sides were doors. As far as he could see to the front, the hallway stretched on for hundreds of doors before ending at a distant wall, but to his rear there was just one door, but it, unlike all the ones on the sides of the hall, was only partly closed.

Slowly, after a glance along the hallway, he opened the door and looked inside.

Beyond the door was darkness. With a lighted area in the immediate vicinity, the rest of the room seemed to stretch on forever.

In the brightest part of the light amid the gloom there was a table, and two chairs.

Eadgils stepped through the door, and approached the table. As he got closer, he noticed The Girl. She was sitting in one of the chairs, watching him approach. A glance down confirmed he was back in his own body.

"Uh, hello." He said to The Girl.

"My name is Sue. Why do you call me The Girl all the time?" she asked, watching as he sat down across the table from her.

"Um, because that was how I named you when I first noticed you six months ago? Since I didn't know your name, I had to call you something. By now, it is a force of habit. Sorry."

"It's ok. Tell me, do you know what's going on? Am I dead?" she asked.

"No, I think I'm dead. You, my dear, are quite alive, I hope." He responded.

"But how? The last thing I remember was being shot in the stomach while trying to help you get away from the Hunters. After that, things are so weird. Nothing makes sense. What is going on?"

"Well, as best as I can figure, you died. I lost my head. You got my Quickening, all of it, for a change. And then, you woke up."

"But, ho-how could I wake up? I'm not an Immortal. I had a family. Immortals never have families."

"Not quite true. All Immortals are either Foundlings, or Changelings, you must have been a Changeling. You know what that is, don't you?"

"A Changeling? Isn't that where some fairy or elf steals a child and replaces it with one of their own in the fairy tales?"

"In essence. Although while I have seen a lot of things, both good and evil, I have never seen an elf or a fairy. No, most changelings are switched by normal humans, for normal human reasons, whatever they may be." He replied, and suddenly a pair of memories floated to the top of both their minds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 21st, 1682, Rhode Island...

Eadgils watched as the young girl leaned over the mangled body of the older man, moaning in pain from the multiple broken bones and torn organs caused by the crash of his wagon. Eadgils knew as well as everyone else there that he was watching the poor souls last moments on this earth.

As the girl reached out though, she said "Hold still Master Warner. It'll be all right."

Suddenly, from her hands what looked for all the world like a Quickening shot out, and surged through the man's body.

Even as the onlookers watched in shock, currents of electricity seemed to stitch together his wounds, and bend his bones back into position. As the girl collapsed over his torso, the man sat up, and looked around with amazement.

"Witchcraft!" someone called from the watching crowd.

Master Warner looked down at the body of the unconscious girl stretched out over his own, and a sudden look of revulsion crossed his face. He leapt to his feet, letting her small form thunk into the mud where he had previously lain.
"Get the Parson" he growled, while reaching for a rope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 22nd, 1682, Rhode Island...

Eadgils watched helplessly as the so called "Judge" passes sentence. "Mary-Elizabeth, by your own admission, and the testimony of witnesses, you are hereby found guilty of the crime of Witchcraft, and consorting with the devil. For these crimes, you are to be sentenced to death by blooding, sentence to be carried out immediately, in the name of God."

There was nothing that he could do as they dragged the poor girl to a post encircled by brush, and shackled her down. Her screams echoed off the church behind them as the Parson first sliced her chest deeply, just below the neck, causing her blood to pour out onto the brush at her feet, which he then lit with a torch, causing flames to rise up and consume her, as dark foul smelling smoke climbed to the heavens from the bonfire at her feet. Mercifully, she did not last long, whether it was blood loss, or inhalation scorching her lungs and she passed out, or perhaps died. The fire burned out and all that was left was her charred corpse, still hanging from the smoking remnants of the post to which she had been shackled.

The townsfolk prayed for her soul, despite it's obvious damnation, and removed her body to bury it outside the churchyard, on un-consecrated ground, as befitted a witch.

Eadgils waited around for 3 days, hoping not to feel a stirring of a Quickening from the girls grave, and when he did not, he headed out of town, to the east, to catch a ship back to Europe, away from this wretched place. He'd had enough of the New World for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wha-what was that?" Sue asked, looking at Eadgils in alarm.

"That, my dear was a memory you just dredged up. Happens all the time. Anyhow, as I was saying, you must have been a Changeling, someone for some reason swapped you with the original Sue Danning in the hospital, or shortly after you were born. That is the only explanation."

"But, who? My mom, she died giving birth to me. It almost killed my Dad. Everyone said that if it hadn't been for having to take care of me, that he might have just slipped away and followed her. But who would want to do that to him?"

"I don't know Sue, but someone must of. If you really want to know, you can try and check with the Hospital. It could have been a nurse, or a Doctor, it could have been almost anyone. It doesn't matter. What does is that you were not really your father's biological daughter. Oh, he raised you, and in every sense was your father, but you I'm afraid were not the fruit of his loins. Couldn't have been."

"This makes no sense. How can I be Immortal? I'm a Watcher. They check all candidates for Immortality, even ones who grew up more or less in the Society, like I did. How could I pass the tests? I remember them, when they cut my thumb during the Initiation, before they gave me my Tattoo. Wouldn't the test have shown?"

"No, I don't think so. I think that test is more to see if you are a mortal, sort of the old 'Cut them and see if they heal' type of test. Granted, not as extreme as the other, 'Kill them and see if they stay dead' test, but along the same lines. The thing is though, that before you are killed for the first time, there really is nothing to differentiate an Immortal from a normal Mortal. At that time, you were essentially still Mortal. I wonder though how Death passed that test."

"Death? You mean Adam? He can't be an Immortal! And even if he was, he can't be Death! I mean, I know they look the same, but I've known Adam for years. I remember when he was with Alexia. He took almost a whole year off, traveled around the world, just to make a dying woman happy. That is not the act of someone like the Death you remember." Sue rebutted.

"I don't know. You don't know. But when you meet him next time, watch your head. If he is Death, he is one of the oldest Headhunters ever. No wonder he is looking for Methos. Imagine if he could kill that one. That alone might give him enough of an edge to win the Game. Pray that he does not, for whatever the Prize, there is enough to believe that it would give him the power to rule the world, and a world ruled by Death is one no one would WANT to live in."

With that, Eadgils rose from the table, and headed back to the door he had come from, stepping through, and pulling it closed behind him.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted on Classic BC Friday, June 04, 2004

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Afternoon sunlight streaming through the drawn curtains hit her face and woke her.

Sue blinked against the light, and looked around the room.

She knew where she was, and how she had gotten there. The memories of the past day were all perfectly clear in her mind, but the reasoning behind some of her actions were not so readily apparent.

What was apparent was she was again herself. She could remember Eadgils, but trying to recall specifics of his life now only drew blanks. Specifics of her own life however, were not so hard to recall. She thought of her Father, the stories about her Mother, and her life growing up. She could not believe her Dad was not her real Father. It just wasn't possible. Thinking that was like losing him all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 12, 2000, Gardena, California...

Sue was watching a movie in the living room while waiting for her Dad to get home. He was covering for Myra Chandler's Watcher, as she once again passed through Los Angels on one of her several, frequent trips.

Sue thought back to her first, and last, meeting with Myra, on the beach two and a half years before. That woman really creeped her out.

Dad was supposed to be relieved by Mike at 5:00, and it was almost 8:00pm now. What was unusual was not that her father had been delayed, things happened, but that he hadn't called. That wasn't like him at all. Still, she wasn't really worried, after all, he was probably stuck in traffic or something and his cell phone was probably dead.

She jerked up as the doorbell rang. She rose, and headed to the door. She looked out the peephole, and her heart skipped a beat.

Standing outside was Mike, and two other local Watchers. Their expressions were glum at best.

With her heart pounding in her chest, and a knot of ice forming in her stomach, she opened the door.

"Hi Mike." She said simply.

"Um, Sue. Hello. Can we come in, please?" he asked, a painful expression on his face.

"Sure", she said, stepping back and gesturing towards the living room.

They stepped in, and Mike pointed at the couch. "Sue, please sit down. I need to tell you something."

The knot of ice in her stomach exploded, and her throat suddenly was blocked by a rock while her head started to spin and throb. She sat down mechanically, already fearing she knew what Mike was about to say.

"Wha-what is it?" she finally managed to get out, her voice trembling.

"Sue, I'm sorry. We all are. It's your father. He's been killed."

The world spun, and darkness started to close in. Her legs wanted to tremble, but at the same time, they were going numb. So were her hands. She could no longer feel her fingers. She did manage to get out one gasping word though. "Haaow?"

Taking a deep breath, and looking at one of the other Watchers, he said "He was stabbed. By a sword."

Suddenly, a cold, stark realization settled over her. The numbness faded as her heart began to thunder. Anger washed her being, as an alternative to the loss she couldn't really face. She stood up in a sudden violent move, catching everyone present by surprise. "That BITCH!" she yelled, visions of Myra's head rolling along the ground sans body filling her head, replacing the ones of her father, skewered like a piece of meat on a shiskabob.

"Now, calm down Sue," Mike said, "We don't really know who did it. When I went to replace him, I found his body. I placed some calls, and it is being taken care of. We will try to find out what happened, but for now, we really don't know. All we know is that Myra was meeting someone, and he was watching it. But whatever happened, remember the Watcher Oath, I WILL DO SO WITHOUT INTERFERING IN THEIR LIVES, NOR ALLOWING THEM TO KNOW OF MY PRESENCE. TO THIS I SWEAR AND PLEDGE MY LIFE,"

"I'm not a real Watcher," Sue retorted, "Look, no Tattoo." She said, displaying her wrist.

"Not yet, but if you ever hope to be, and if you want to honor your father's memory, you will still follow that rule. The rule he GAVE his life for."

"Oh, Mike!" she cried, the anger fading as fast as it had come, its place taken by a previously inconceivable emptiness. The tears finally broke, and she clung to Mike, sobbing.

"Hush, it's alright honey. It's alright we'll take care of it. Don't worry." He said, hugging her to him.

Mike and one other Watcher stayed with her that evening, sleeping on the couch and in the guest room.

The next day, they arranged for everything. They had arranged for a private service and burial. As far as the rest of the world would be concerned, her father would just disappear. They told her they had set up a trust to make the house and utility payments, as well as provide a fund for clothing, food, etc. They also promised her that when she turned 18, there would be a spot open for her at the Watcher Academy in Paris. They would help her honor her father's memories by following in his footsteps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tears of loss were flowing once again, as she once more mourned the loss of her father. She also realized she had a problem. Actually, a set of problems. She was a Watcher, and her subject was dead, by Hunters, and she was missing. But she was also now an Immortal. Everyone would be looking for her.

Picking up the phone, she placed a long distance call to a number she had not used in several years, but was still ingrained in her mind from the several calls she had made after Mike had been recalled to Seacouver.

"Joe's Bar" came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes, uh, is Mike there, please?" she asked.

"One moment, may I ask who's calling?" the woman on the other end asked.

"Yes. Tell him it's Sue."

A few murmured voices, a faint shout, some sort of thump, like a door slamming, and a rattle as another phone was picked up on the other end of the line was all she could detect.

"Sue?!" Mikes voice came through the line, and as it did, she could hear the first phone being hung back up.

"Mike!" she replied.

"Sue, where are you? Are you alright? We heard about Eadgils, what happened? I was so worried when we didn't hear anything from you."

"Hunters." was all she said to Mike. Then she took a breath, and started again.

"In the order you asked, though, I'm in a Motel 6 somewhere between Atlanta and Savannah. I am fine, just a little shaken up, with maybe a bruise or two, certainly some sore muscles. I haven't had time to really look. And as I said, Hunters happened. My pager was fried, there were three dead bodies, and I was more concerned with getting away myself than anything else. They almost killed me as well. I, I shot one of them. But, I was too late, he still went ahead and, he killed Eadgils, Mike. Just like that."

"What about the Quickening? I saw pictures of the scene, and we had people on-site, but there doesn't look like there was much of anything at all." Mike asked.

"I don't know. I wasn't really watching, I passed out after I shot the Hunter. When I woke up, Eadgils and the two Hunters were dead. Mike, there has to be someone on the inside. They didn't just find Eadgils on their own. Someone has to be working with them. That was why I called you. Of all the Watchers I know, you are the one I know I can trust. What should I do?"

"Well, you are right that there has to be someone on the inside. Some people were thinking it was YOU. I told them that was bullshit, but they brought up how your father was killed by an Immortal, and that was enough to make you a suspect. Then, with you missing, your supervisor said he couldn't get a hold of you, and that you hadn't checked in for several hours."

"Mike, he's lying. I checked in just about an hour before the attack. He paged me asking for a Location/Status update. I think he leaked to the Hunters. He also paged me just BEFORE they attacked, telling me to report to Savannah HQ. Check the pager logs. You'll see he's lying."

"Ok honey, Joe and I'll check. You just stay put, and keep your head down. Call me in a while, and I'll have more for you. Can you do that?" Mike asked.

"Uh, yeah. I am kinda out of it anyhow, so that is not a problem. And Mike, when this is over, I want to take some time off and go home. Ok?"

"Sure thing. I'll make sure Joe knows not to reassign you for a while, so you can take a little time off. Now, stay put, and keep your head down. If nothing else, the Hunters may be looking for you for a little clean-up and pay-back. Ok?"

"Ok," she said. "I'll call you this evening."

With that she hung up the phone, and climbed out of bed, stepping right on the blade of the Katana. As the cold chill shocked through her foot, she looked down to see the blood start to flow over the blade and onto the floor.

"Damn!" she muttered, sitting back down and lifting her foot, taking it in her hands, and turning it over so she could see the sole and examine the damage. What she saw instead caused her breath to catch.

She watched in amazement as the cut was crisscrossed with little sparks, and started to close, the blood having already stopped flowing. All she felt was a slight itching as the skin healed back, leaving only a red line, which it's self faded away.

When even the line was gone, she wiped the remaining blood off her foot, and examined the area minutely for any trace of injury. Nothing.

Releasing her foot, she again stood up, this time carefully not stepping on the Katana, and in fact bending over to pick it up and place it more safely on top of the television, out of the way.

She then continued on into the bathroom, and looked at the mess her appearance presented in the mirror. With a shrug of resignation, she pulled off her nightshirt and panties, and tugged her hair free from its braid before stepping on the dirty towel left casually on the floor and into the shower.

First off, she thoroughly washed her body, before attacking her hair with both the Shampoo and Conditioner from her Emergency kit.

Finally clean, she climbed out, and used the last towel to dry off.

She grabbed the spare bra, along with the Maroon shirt, black jeans, and the last clean panties from the Emergency kit and got dressed.

Next she brushed out her hair, until it was reasonably dry and tangle free, once again flowing back over her shoulders in a shining brown mane.

A touch of makeup, and she collected the keycard for the room and headed for the door. Her shoulder brushed the handle of the Katana as she walked by, bringing her to a stop.

She stood there contemplating the handle of the Katana for a few moments, before picking it up. A few experimental swings succeeded only in almost decapitating the already headless bed. Realizing she had absolutely no idea how to handle such a weapon, she was suddenly stuck by a thrill of fear. It was totally unlike the rapiers she had learned to use in France.

She was now an Immortal. She was therefore expected to be able to defend herself with a sword. If she came upon a Headhunter somewhere, it was quite unlikely they would accept a "Sorry, I just started, could you come back and fight me next year?" from her and go away. No, more likely they would see her as an easy target and collect her head as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. An echo of the guarded wariness Eadgils had felt for so long it was automatic to him thrummed in her mind. What had happened to him, anyhow? Last night, she was more him than her. But today, it was almost like yesterday had never even happened.

In any case, she would need some sort of protection, and she couldn't very well run around Macon dangling a Katana in her hand, especially one she had no idea how to use. Thinking back, she remembered the .45 in the car, taken from the Hunter, and now a weapon used in an unsolved triple homicide. It would not be a very good idea to wander around Macon toting that around in her hand either.

With a sigh of resignation, she looked at the other two weapons in her so called "Arsenal". Last night, she had also carried up a Bowie knife, and a stiletto style throwing knife. While she had no idea how to throw such a knife in a manner likely to impale a target, she could hack and slash with some competency using either the Bowie, or the stiletto, thanks to the classes she took in Paris the year before. The Bowie had a scabbard which looked to be designed to be worn on the back under clothing. She decided to give it a try on for size.

Returning to the small bathroom, she pulled off her shirt, and examined the straps on the Bowie's scabbard. Sort of like a reverse bra, there was a loop for going over each shoulder, and a belt for around the torso. The scabbard was apparently reversible, so it could be drawn from either the left or the right, from the top or the bottom, depending on which slots the straps were fed through.

After some experimentation, she finally decided she felt best with the Bowie high on her back, handle facing her lower right side, where she could easily reach up and back with her right hand to release and draw it.

The Bowie was thus somewhat hidden under her shirt, assuming she layered the light jacket from Ed's "Back House" over it. Next, she turned to the stiletto boot knife. Since she was wearing track shoes, which really needed washing, she noted, taking in their dungy appearance, she couldn't really put it in a boot, but it also had straps for its scabbard, meant to wrap around the calf, and hold it in position. Once in place, she pulled the cuffs of her pants down, and voila! Armed Civilian. Of course, she would never pass even the most casual pat-down, but at least she could walk around in relative anonymity, and might have a remote fighting chance if she came across an aggressive Headhunter. Snickering at the unintentional pun, she again collected the keycard, but also grabbed the plastic bag with her bloody blouse as well as the katana, and headed down to the car.

Katana stuffed nicely under the seat, and bloody blouse stuffed in the duffel bag in the trunk along with the bloody coat she had been wearing the night before and the hard drives from Ed's computer, she was ready to find food.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted on Classic BC June 12, 2004

With a trip to town to gather supplies, Sue starts on a plan to face her new life.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Sue drove back into Macon, looking for food. She had a simple plan: Get Food, Clothes, a Cell Phone, and head back to the hotel.

Her first stop was at a Burger King. A Chicken Whopper and cup of Ice Water solved the initial item on her agenda.

From there she headed to a local mall. Parking outside of the Macys, she headed inside for some quick shopping.

Choosing expediency over fashion, she swiftly selected three pairs of jeans in her size one tan, and two blue.
She added six tops in various colors, and then selected two long trench type coats, chosen based on their fall and length so they might help hide the Katana.

Two extra pairs of running shoes, and a pair of flats, plus eight sets of underwear and socks rounded out her little clothing search, although she added a rolling suitcase large enough to fit it all in as well.

She then swung by the cosmetics counter to obtain larger bottles of shampoo, and conditioner, along with a new supply of makeup in her proper colors.

A quick trip to the car to drop off her purchases, and she dove back into the mall in search of a phone.

It only took a glance at the Mall Directory to determine there was both a Nextel and an AT&T store in the mall. She chose the AT&T store, as it was closest.

For $145 plus tax she picked up a Nokia "go" phone with 550 anytime flat rate minutes, and internet access.

On an impulse, she stopped in a sewing supplies store on her way out of the mall, and bought some dark cloth, lots of thread, a pair of scissors, and some needles. She realized that while sewing was not her forte, she would have to find some way to carry the Katana in the two coats she had purchased earlier and preferably in a way that didn't show.

Her needs thus met, she headed back to the hotel.

Once there, she shuttled the backpack containing Ed's cash and various documents up to her room, along with her new clothes, phone, luggage, and of course, the Katana. The hard drives and blood soaked clothing was all she left behind in the car.

Once everything was in her room, she set about packing her bags. First off, she chose a top and a pair of pants to replenish the Emergency Kit. Likewise, she refilled the small travel sized shampoo and conditioner bottles, and returned them to their places, along with two pairs of underwear and socks.

Next, she examined the pants she had worn the previous day. Deciding they were not a total loss, she set them aside, and proceeded to pack the suitcase with all but one pair of blue jeans, a matching top, and a complete set of both underwear and socks. She set another set of underwear aside, next to her sleep shirt, which like the small supply of scrunchies, she had not replaced in the Emergency Kit.

She then trekked down to the car, bringing up the duffel bag containing the hard drives.

She opened the backpack, and separated out its contents. Taking the cash, she separated it into three piles of roughly $40,000 each. The smallest pile, made up of the largest bills, she added into the Emergency Kit.

The largest pile, made up of the smallest bills, she placed into the Duffel Bag, along with Ed's spare identification documents and the deed to the back house.

Changing to one of the two new pairs of shoes, she placed both the shoes and the socks she had been wearing the previous day into the backpack and carried both the bags from Ed's house back down to the car.

At the car, she added the ruined clothes to the backpack, and locked both bags into the trunk.

Returning to her room, she turned to the third stack of money, and separated out the fifties and the hundreds. She now had two stacks, one with $12,450 in it, and the other worth $23,900.

She stuffed the $100's, along with 22 of the fifties into the suitcase, completely filling the internal zipper compartment with $25,000 worth of cash.

The remaining $11,350 she again divided, creating eight stacks of 25 fifties each, which she fit into the Laptop case's side pocket, after removing the phone cable, power supply, and manuals.

This left her with 27 $50 bills, from which she made a final stack of 25, bound them with the ruined scrunchie, and placed in her purse next to her wallet. The final two bills she added to her almost empty wallet.

Finally, she carried the lighter of her two coats back down to the car, and placed it in the trunk on top of the two bags already there. As she turned to head back up the steps, the oddity of her actions caused her to pause, one foot on the first tread of the stairs, the other still on the ground. She was not one to meticulously plan and plot things out. Her normal course of action when faced with a big bag of cash would be to keep it that way - as a big bag of cash, digging into it if she needed it, not sorting it logically into separate categories, then packing them away in a manner to let her choose what to grab should an emergency arise.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the action as an example of the Watcher Academy training FINALLY clicking in, and headed back up to her room.

Back in her room, she turned her attention to trying to disguise her Katana in the remaining heavy coat.

She swiftly determined she could not hang it on either side of the coat, as its weight was more than enough to cause the coat to slump to the side where the katana rested.

This prompted her to finally attach the scabbard to the middle of the back, where the sword would ride just above her Butt if she sat down in the coat. Testing this with the rooms chair, she winced as the back of the chair caused the katana to shove against the Bowie knife she was still wearing, and both to painfully poke her in the back.

Standing back up and removing both coat, and after a glance to insure the curtains were still tightly drawn, her top, so she could remove the Bowie knife, she thought to herself "There has to be a better way." What did the other Immortals do?

She had seen several Immortals over the course of her life, both male and female, but most of them seemed adept at hiding their swords so well that even she, who often looked for them, could not find them. As a young girl she had hypothesized a secret Immortal ability to make swords vanish to alternate dimensions when looking at an Immortal who she utterly failed to spot a place for a blade. As she grew older, however, she noticed they did tend to wear looser clothing, and when they did not, they tended to carry something with them. But there were still times when she would have sworn the Immortal she was watching was utterly unarmed. At least once she knew she had been wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 1996, Torrance, California...

Twelve year old Sue and her father wandered through the Del Amo shopping center, both of them surreptitiously keeping an eye on the lovely brunette woman who was apparently doing some very early Christmas shopping.

Amanda Darieux. Her Dad had said she was over a thousand years old. She looked to be in her twenties.

Dressed in a tight, formfitting top, and a daringly short skirt, with open toed high heel shoes, Sue wondered how she could be carrying a sword. She really didn't think the woman was.

Amanda did have a small purse dangling from her shoulder, but it was barely large enough to hold a wallet. Certainly too small to conceal any sort of weapon.

Yet there is no way an Immortal could survive for over a thousand years if she constantly wandered around unarmed. Sue was mesmerized by more than the woman's grace and beauty; she was fascinated by the mystery of her survival.

Dad said she was a thief. Not the kind who runs around stealing purses and wallets though, but the dress in black and slide down a rope to steal the crown jewels type. To Sue, that just made her even more romantic. It was like seeing the character from some spy movie in real life. Of course, all she had been doing today was crawling through the mall, looking at clothes and trinkets.

Amanda had an odd way of shopping, that was for sure. For over three hours, she had not bought a single thing, simply wandering from store to store. Now, having hit the far end of the mall, she was making her way back, but had stopped in three stores so far to pick things up she had expressed interests in earlier.

It was as they were passing the food court, with Amanda in the middle of the bridge which connected to Stor that Amanda stopped suddenly and looked around frowning.

A small, twitchy man at the other end of the bridge, having just left Stor and heading towards the food court was also stopped. His eyes met Amanda's and he nodded.

Amanda and the man met towards the middle of the bridge. Sue and her father waited on the food court side, him leaning against the wall watching out of the side of his eyes, while Sue just stood next to him and watched the two speaking. While they were too far away to catch even a speck of sound, they were close enough to see the aggravation on Amanda's face, and the seemingly smug satisfaction of the twitchy man.

Finally, both Amanda and the other apparent Immortal turned and made their way back through Stor. Amanda looked annoyed.

With a bit of a rush, as soon as the two targets had entered Stor, Sue and her father dashed across the bridge, then more slowly resumed their careful trailing of Amanda and her companion.

As they exited Stor, her father nodded to another man, apparently the other gentleman's Watcher.

The gentleman joined them, and together the three followed Amanda and her associate out of the mall and into the parking lot.

It then became a matter of strolling amongst the cars while maintaining a discreet distance as the two Immortals sought out a somewhat more private area for a meeting.

Eventually Amanda pointed back towards the mall, and the man with her flung up his hands in exasperation, and they reversed their course. It seemed the two Immortals had realized there was no shelter to be found in and amongst the sparse trees and the various cars they purported to shelter from the summer sun.

Back beside the mall was a wall, behind which dumpsters were secluded. It was to this area that the two Immortals finally made their way.

Sue and her father followed, along with the other Watcher, who still had not said a word to either of them.

Finding a vantage point along the wall of the mall, where they could see the two Immortals amongst the dumpsters, but were far enough away to be less noticeable, they watched as the twitchy man finally pulled a sword, literally out of his pants. No wonder he had been so twitchy, Sue thought with a giggle.

Amanda on the other hand just set down her packages, leaving her purse on top of then, and backed away a bit. She said something to the man, but his only response was to slice the air with his blade back and forth and advance on Amanda another step. She backed up one more step, until she was in between the dumpsters, and out of view of the three Watchers.

The twitchy man raised his sword and took another step forward, apparently intending to simply move in and hack off Amanda's head, when suddenly his grin changed to a look of surprise, and his body jerked as a small knife buried itself, apparently out of nowhere right in his heart.

The sword fell from his hand, and he followed it a moment later to land on the ground in a heap.

Amanda stepped back into view, a look of distaste on her face as she rolled the body over, and dragged it back behind the dumpsters. She returned a moment later and retrieved the sword, and vanished from sight again. The booming flash of a Quickening however provided ample testimony to what happened next though.

Several moments later, Amanda came back into view, without the sword. Her clothes looking mussed, and her hair no longer looking as perfect as it had up until that time.

She bent over and retrieved her purse and her bags, then with a final look of disgust at what must have been the corpse of the twitchy man, she headed back towards the parking lot and her car.

Her father nodded to the still silent Watcher, and the two of them followed Amanda to their own car, parked a few rows further away from the Immortal's.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been the first time Sue had actually seen an Immortal take a head. Not that she had really seen it, just heard it and saw the flash. It had not been a particularly large Quickening, but that was not what had stuck with Sue all these years. What stuck with Sue was Amanda. She had apparently not wanted anything to do with the twitchy man, but when pressed, she had produced a knife from somewhere, and dispatched him with a cold efficiency. It helped to explain how she had managed to survive for so long. But what still tickled Sue's thoughts was where Amanda had hidden the knife.

Especially now, it would be really nice to know.

Shaking off her thoughts, she picked up the cell phone, and again dialed the Seacouver number.

"Joe's Bar, Joe speaking." A mellow voice answered, almost lazily.

"Uh, hi Joe. This is Sue. Is Mike there?" she asked, hoping this was not going to be the start of something bad.

"Sue? Sue Danning?" the voice asked, with a hint of suspicion.

"Uh, yeah. Mike asked me to call him back when I talked to him this morning. Didn't he tell you?" she responded, visions of legions of Watchers combing the countryside at Joe's direction looking for HER suddenly flashing through her mind. As North American Regional Head he could literally order any Watcher to face the tribunal. With suspicion of being a Hunter, he would have more than ample reason.

"Yeah, he did. Your story checked out as well. We pulled David in about an hour ago. So far other than his lying about hearing from you, and the message he sent telling you to report to HQ, we don't have any evidence he is involved in the Hunters, but even by itself it is pretty damming. I am glad you called us instead of getting back in touch with him. He was obviously planning to set you up to take the fall for everything. He had been spreading stories about your snide remarks about Immortals to other Watchers for the past few weeks, you know."

"What remarks? I don't have a problem with Immortals! Other than once declaring an intent to kill the bitch who murdered my Dad, there isn't a single Immortal I have ever said anything bad about. And I have specifically asked to be kept as far away from that particular Immortal as possible, as you well know." she responded, thinking to herself she certainly shouldn't, being one herself now.

"Oh, nothing specific, he just told people you seemed to have a less than healthy attitude towards Immortals, and that he was getting worried about you. That general impression with the folks in Savannah, coupled with your apparently going off the radar, then going AWOL and your Immortal ending up dead, well, let's say that the Tribunal would have been more interested in getting a hold of you alive, or even dead. I've called off the dogs though, so you can relax now. I just wanted to tell you, you showed good instincts in dropping out of sight AND in calling Mike the way you did. Your father would have been proud. I know I am. I personally could not believe the reports I was getting. I couldn't picture my little Susie-q going on an Immortal killing spree, especially with as inoffensive a guy as Eadgils. I was relieved when Mike told me you had called."

"Thanks Joe." She said, swallowing a lump at the thought of her Father, who was apparently not really her father.

"So, what happened anyhow? I saw the pictures taken by the cops, and I couldn't see any sign of a Quickening. What did you see?" Joe asked.

"I didn't see much, I'm afraid. I saw the Hunters, I don't know if I did the right thing or not, according to the Oath, but I yelled at Ed to run. Then I tried to jump the one next to me, we fought, Ed stabbed him, I got his gun, shot the other Hunter, and that's about all I remember. When I woke up, I had a huge headache, and was lying in the water, Ed was dead, the two Hunters were dead, and the sword was gone. I took the gun I had fired, grabbed my purse, and made myself scarce." She explained, not really lying, other than about the sword.

"Do you think there was a third Hunter? One that hit you from behind and finished the job?" Joe asked.

"Well, someone took the sword." She responded, grimacing at the act of deliberately misleading a man who had always been there for her, especially after her Father's death.

"Damn. I was afraid of that. We can never seem to find them all. Ok, we'll keep looking for the missing Hunter. So far the police have no clues. I can tell you they are not happy. They have a Gunshot victim who had fired a gun, and two people killed by a missing sword. They raided Eadgils's house but apparently didn't find anything. The Police are labeling it some sort of gang or drug killing for now, but they really don't have any leads. Unfortunately, other than David, neither do we."

"Uh, yeah. I wish there was more I could add. I wish I had done something different somehow, I feel like I failed both the Watchers and Ed." Sue said honestly.

"Sweetheart, you were just lucky you weren't killed. You were dealing with Hunters. The deck was stacked against you, literally. My first fear was for you when I heard you were missing. Then when I heard about them finding Eadgils body, I honestly didn't know what to think. I am just glad you are safe. Mike said you wanted to take some time off, by the way, is that true?" Joe responded.

"Uh, yeah, if I can. I would like to go home, and try to get my head on straight." She answered.

"You want to come out here? You've never been out to Seacouver before. I'd love to show you the bar. I have a spare room in my house you could crash at, if you want. You could meet Duncan MacLeod. Oh, and Adam is here as well. I think you met him in France. At least he seemed to know who you were, and was concerned about you when you were missing." Joe said.

"I don't think so, Joe. Thanks for asking though," she said. "I really just want to go home. Sit in my back yard, where everything is familiar, and unwind. Right now I'm not even sure I want to stay in the Watchers." She added, with yet another subtle bit of honesty. "I need to take some time and evaluate my life. Nothing like almost getting killed to make you want to think, you know what I mean?"

"I do. You want to talk to Mike now, he is here both glaring at me, and making a worried expression at the same time. I'd take a picture of it for you if I had a camera."

"Yes please," she replied, "I need to give him a new phone number for me."

"Ok, I'll let you go. You give me a call when you get home and let me know you are all right, ok Susie-q?"

"Ok Joe. I'll do that." She answered.

She could hear a shuffling in the background, then Mike's familiar voice filled her ear. "Sue? You doing ok?"

"Yeah Mike. I bought a new phone. Wanted to give you the number so you could get a hold of me when things were sorted out. I didn't expect things to move so fast on your end. Oh well, I'll give you the number anyhow. You ready?" she asked.

"Go ahead." He answered.

"Ok, it's area code 478, and the number is 411, 1975. Got that?"

"478 411 1975. Got it." He answered.

"Ok, do me a favor, and give it to Joe as well. I'm going to leave here in the morning and head back to L.A. I think I want to drive, so I'll be a while getting there."

"Will do. Why do you want to drive?"

"'Cause it'll give me some time to think. I just told Joe, I'm thinking about leaving the Watchers."

"What!" Mike exclaimed.

"Heh, I'm not quite handing in my resignation sheet yet, just considering it. Like I told Joe, there's nothing like almost getting killed to make you want to re-examine your life." She explained.

"Ok, I understand. But promise you will talk to me some more before you make any decisions. Like Joe said, your father would be proud of you and the way you handled yourself. I know I am. You are a top notch Watcher, even though you are less than six months out of the academy. I can honestly say I have never seen anyone with your raw talent. It would be a shame to throw all that away. But if that is what you want, I will promise to support you in your decision. Just promise me to give me a chance to change your mind before you do anything final, ok?" Mike responded.

In the background, Sue could hear Joe saying softly "Mike, give it a rest, the girl has just been through hell. She needs time to think. Push her now, and you could just push her away."

Sue herself responded "I'll do so Mike. I promise. Look, I gotta go now. I just wanted to check in and give you this number before I went back to bed to get some more rest. I promise I'll call again tomorrow. Ok?"

"Ok. Take care, and I'll talk to you again tomorrow." Mike replied.

Hanging up the phone, Sue turned at last to Ed's Laptop. She pulled it out of the case, opened it up, and turned it on.

As the screen glowed to life, she noticed it was asking for a BIOS password.

Confidently she reached out to the keyboard, placed her hands on the keys, and just sat there. Much like when she had tried out the sword earlier, what she had expected didn't work. Unlike the day before, when she seemed to be more Ed than Sue, now there was no Ed left at all. Not even a slight echo. She was all alone. It frightened her.

Turning the laptop back off, she stripped off her pants and socks, pulled on the sleep shirt, locked and bolted the door, and climbed back on the bed to get some more rest. Closing her eyes against the afternoon sun slanting in through the drawn curtains, she tried to relax and go back to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day. At least no one had tried to kill her today.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted to Classic BC June 19, 2004

Once more in the Dreamscape, Eadglis trains Sue in all the sword skills he has garnered over the past 4,000 years. It's a long night.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

She was standing on a grassy field, with a faint hot breeze blowing both her long, loose hair and the thin soft full length dress she was wearing.

In her hand, was the Katana.

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Girl?" came an angry voice from behind her.

Whirling she saw Ed, his old sword laying casually over his right shoulder.

"What? Ed? Where are we? Where were you?" she asked.

"Where, no where. Don't ask me, I'm dead, remember?" he replied.

"But, yesterday, you were, and then today, it was like..." she tried to explain, for some reason suddenly having to fight off an urge to burst into tears.

"Now then, don't get all frustrated. This isn't any easier for me you know. I always figured it was all over once I lost my head. Sometimes I actually looked forward to it. Shows you what I knew." He answered. "But for now, for what we are doing here, is teaching you how to keep your own head on your shoulders."

"What do you mean?", she asked.

"I mean, teaching you to USE that sword you are carrying, especially when someone does something like THIS!" he said, suddenly swinging his own sword at Sue's neck.

"Unnh", she said, trying to take a step backwards and raise the Katana to block his blade at the same time, and only ending up tripping over her skirt and falling on her butt, the sword dropping from her grasp to land on the grass.

"Well, that move will work once, but I don't think it will do much for protecting you from a second swing." Ed said, stifling a laugh.

"Heh, I wasn't prepared." She complained as he reached down to offer her a hand up.

"Well then, that's your first lesson. Always be prepared." He said, lifting her to her feet.

"Like a boy scout?" she asked, looking around in surprise.

The sunny, grass covered hillside was gone, replaced by a utilitarian looking gym. Her dress was likewise gone, replaced by a soft, comfortable Gi, like she had worn for the physical training regimens at the Academy in France. She stood on a woven mat of some kind, and looked up at Ed, who hadn't changed at all.

"Like a boy scout." He affirmed.

"Uh, ok." She answered.

"Remember, the time to most expect to be attacked, is when you least expect it."

"Um, that sounds kind of Zen. How does one most expect something and least expect it at the same time?"

"By always being ready, grasshopper" he said, imitating the priest from the old Kung-Foo TV show.

"Ok, I suppose that makes sense," she said, thinking back to how she had felt the night before, when Ed was more or less in charge. A constant state of caution, a running vigil, examining everything to identify the possible threats, and a constant mental list of possible counters to those threats.

"Now, let's get some basic lessons in. First off, you are holding it wrong. It's a sword, not a club. Hold it in your hand like this..."

They went on for what literally seemed like years, practicing moves, grips, even hand to hand throws, kicks, and punches.

It was like being back at the Academy with Adam and his fencing lessons, but without taking any breaks. Neither herself or Ed seemed to tire, and while it hurt when he landed blows on her, there was no blood, and the pain faded rapidly.

Finally, Ed called a halt.

"I think that's about all I can do for you now," he said.

They were sitting again at a table, in the center of a vast, possibly endless room, with a single doorway on the wall behind them, slightly askew. Ed rose from the table, and headed towards the door.

"Wait!" Sue called, "Don't go! I - I need you!"

"What's that noise?" Ed asked, looking around.

A melodic tone, like the background score to a movie had sprung up from no where.

"Oh." She realized. "It's the phone. I bought a new phone."

The music grew, and the room faded to black.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted on Classic BC June 28, 2004

Eadglis faces yet another day after his death. Starting with a call from the man he believes to be Death himself.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Eadgils was lying on a bed.

On the nightstand at the side of the bed, there were two phones, one a normal hotel phone, and the other a small gray cell phone. The cell phone was ringing.

Reaching out, he picked it up, and placed it to his ear, taking a moment to sweep the long hair out of the way.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Uh, yes. Is this Sue Danning?" an oddly accented male voice answered.

"Speaking," Eadgils replied, since he well knew that was who he was, even if he seemed to think differently at the moment.

"I hope you don't mind my calling. I got your number from Joe. You may not remember me, but my name is Adam. Adam Pierson. We met in Paris last year, at the Academy?"

A sudden image of Adam flashed through his mind, placing face to voice, and raising a single word in Eadgils's native tongue, one unuttered in over two thousand years. "Death" he hissed.

"Excuse me?" Adam said.

"Uh, sorry. What can I do for you, Adam?" Eadgils said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Well, I just wanted to see if everything was OK. I heard about your problem, and just wanted to let you know that if you need any help with anything, er, unusual, you might say, that I can help you."

Suddenly a memory drifted to the surface of Eadgils's mind...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 2002, Watcher Academy, Outside Paris, France...

Sue was standing in the Academy Cafeteria, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit.

Suddenly a warm voice spoke up from behind her. "Sue, right?"

Turning around, she saw Adam Pierson, a tray in his own hands.

"Yes," she said, smiling at him.

"Adam Pierson. I'm one of the researchers around here. I work on the Methos project."

"Sue Danning. Watcher-In-Training."

"I know," he said. "I knew your father. He was a good man. I miss him sometimes."

Sue re-examined the man in front of her. At first glance, she had placed him as only a few years older than herself, perhaps mid twenties. But upon a closer examination, there was something about the eyes; they were not the eyes of a twenty year old. He still didn't look old enough to have known her father though, and she certainly had never seen him before. She would have remembered ever meeting someone as cute as him for sure. "How did you know my father?" she asked him.

"Oh, let's just say he helped me out once, and later I returned the favor, although I doubt he ever even knew it. But that is a story for a later time, a much later time. What say we go get a seat?" He replied, gesturing towards an open table at the back of the room, "Would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening, milady?" he asked?

She stifled a giggle, and nodded, following him to the table and taking a seat.

He was a charming companion. He had a dry, quick sense of humor, and told great stories. Once, she tried to bring up the subject of her father, but he diverted her with a tale about the famous Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, and Amanda Darieux, who Sue had once spent an afternoon with her father following around. She told the story of that day to Adam in return, and he laughed and accurately described back to her the exact expression on Amanda's face as she walked away from the body of the Twitchy Man. Apparently he knew Amanda as well as he did both Joe and Mr. Duncan MacLeod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly, Eadgils asked, "Adam, you never did tell me how you knew my father. You just said that you would tell me later. Well, it's later now. Will you tell me, please?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then Adam said. "I will. But it is not a story I can tell you over the phone. To do it justice, I need to tell it to you in person. I know you are heading back to Los Angeles. Tell you what, why don't we meet there somewhere in about a week, I'll take you out to dinner, and tell you the story. It will be like the Academy all over again. Ok?"

With more than a little bit of reservation, Eadgils agreed. While not thrilled about actually setting up a meeting with Death, he had to get some answers. Someone had acted to have him killed, and if it had been Death, then he meant to have vengeance, at long last. If it had not, then the guilty party was still out there, somewhere. Like Joe said, the Watchers can never find them all, but now that he was looking, perhaps Eadgils could. After all, it was sort of personal.

Hanging up the phone, Eadgils stretched, noting again the amazing flexibility of Sue's body as compared to his old one. He opened his eyes, and looked around the hotel room.

Early morning sunlight was filtering through the drawn shades. Looking down at the floor, Eadgils frowned, and looked around the room until he spotted the coat draped awkwardly over the back of the chair, the lump made by the sword concealed within it glaringly obvious, at least to his eyes.

The carrier for the Bowie knife was sitting in the seat of the chair, while the stiletto was sitting on the table next to his laptop.

Stripping off his clothes, he padded naked into the small bathroom, and proceeded to take a shower, taking care however not to get his hair wet this time by wrapping it up in a towel before ever turning on the water, and then keeping his head well out of the way of the spray.

After washing off, he got out, used the last towel to dry off, and put on the clothes Sue had set aside the night before, being sure to snuggly secure the Bowie knife to his back before adding the loose fitting shirt, and strapping on the stiletto as he put on the socks and shoes. He brushed out his hair, but declined to try messing with makeup.

Then, following a subtle nudge, possibly just an echo of her intentions from the night before, he bundled up the two pairs of Jeans, both the sleep-shirt and the top worn yesterday, the jacket from his back house, and all the dirty socks and underwear, and carried it down to the laundry room on the ground floor next to the car.

Selecting a machine, he dumped in the clothes, bought a box of soap, and tossed it in with them, feeding the machine quarters until it started to churn.

Heading back upstairs, he sat down in front of the laptop and powered it up.

As the first screen came up, he absentmindedly typed in FORNLEF, and waited for the operating system to boot. He entered the password GOTTAB2BFREE, and selected the modem program. Picking the phone cord up off the table where it had been discarded next to the power supply, and connected it to the data port on the room's phone. He also then plugged the laptop into the wall, so as to save the batteries, and logged onto the internet.

First off, he sent some instructions to the lawyers who managed the trust which technically owned his house, telling them he had heard what happened to the previous occupant, but that they were not to put it back on the market until they had heard from him. As usual, if they did not hear from him for over a year, they were to execute the termination clause.

Next off, he checked on his various holdings. Most of it would be salvageable; his having learned long ago that diversification, both in interests and in apparent ownership was always in his best interests. It is far better to be a big fish in a small pond if all the fishermen think you are either just a regular little fish, or at best a medium one. It makes you far less likely to be a target, from either some organization, government, or even other Immortals.

He sent out some messages to various people he had worked with in the past to set up new identities. Hopefully he could get a hold of Aristotle in Toronto. When it came to fully documented false identities, the man was an artist. Assuming Aristotle was a man at all. Eadgils had known of Aristotle for over sixty years, and the quality of the identities 'he' set up only got better as time went on.

The main business taken care of, he shut off the computer, and packed it away in its case.

He then carried the laptop down to the car, and put it in the trunk, next to the duffel bag.

Stopping back in the Laundry Room, he moved his clothes from the washer to the dryer, and again fed the machine until it started to run.

He then walked around to the front office.

The same girl who had checked him in the day before was still there, sitting at the desk. Since it was daytime, the actual office was open, not just the plexy-glassed annex, so he went on in.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked.

"Sue Danning, room 2152. I would like to settle my bill and just about check out, please." He said.

"Just about?" the girl enquired, cocking her head, somewhat like a collie dog which heard an odd sound.

"Well, I have everything ready to go, but I have some clothes in the dryer in the laundry. Can't leave 'till they finish. But otherwise I am out of the room. I just thought I should stop up front, because I believe I made a long distance call yesterday, and I wanted to pay for it before I left."

"Ah. Yes. Room, 2152. Two days, prepaid cash. You do have a balance of $12.71, for the toll call. How would you like to pay it?"

"Cash." He said, passing over one of the fifties.

"I'm sorry. I can't take any bills larger then a twenty."

"Um, then I have a problem. I have six fifties, and a five. Somehow I don't think a five will be enough." Eadgils said, looking into Sue's wallet.

"Hm.." the girl said. "I remember when you checked in. I liked you. I still do. I'll make the change my self. Just don't tell my boss."

"That's right. He's a jerk. I'd forgotten." Eadgils replied with a grin.

"More of an Asshole, actually. I can say that because today is his day off. Me, I get to work a double shift without overtime because one shift is last week, and the other shift is this week. Him, he gets to take the weekend off. Asshole." She said, fishing out two twenties and a ten from her own wallet, and exchanging them for the fifty, before handing Eadgils back one of the twenties, the ten, a five, two ones, a quarter and a nickel.

"Here, keep the change," Eadgils said with a smile to the girl, "Buy some coffee or something.", and handing back the seven dollars and thirty cents.

"Thank you!" the girl said. "Whenever you are done, just leave the keycard on the table and lock the door behind you. As long as you are out of there before the maid gets there to clean, no one will know. After all, the Asshole is away today, so we can play!" she sang with a pretty smile.

Leaving the office, Eadgils swung back by the laundry, verifying the clothes were still drying, before heading back up to the room.

The next several minutes were spent working on the Katana in the long coat. While Sue had gotten the right idea, Eadgils had literally thousands of years of experience with carrying swords, and for the past several hundred of them with carrying them more or less concealed.

Removing the badly added "pocket" Sue had sewn into the inside of the coat the night before, Eadgils started over again from scratch.

He measured the position of the sword on the coat by the simple expedient of laying the coat on the bed, the sword on the coat, and himself on top of it all, moving the sword around until it was in the right place.

Next, he got up, and stitched a double pocket of dark cloth onto the back of the whole coat, double stitching a pouch to hold the Katana and its scabbard, and adding a flap over the top. Some Velcro would be needed to hold everything in place neatly, but for a job on the go, it wasn't bad if he did say so himself.

He went down to the laundry, and found his clothes were dry, so he bundled them back up stairs, packed them back into the large suitcase Sue had purchased the day before, collected the phone, Sue's purse, and the now Katana laden coat, and burdened with the now full suitcase headed back down to the car, closing the door to the room and leaving the key on the table as the gal out front had told him to do.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted on Classic BC July 07, 2004

Eadglis hits the road to start his journey to Sue's childhood home. Along the way he stops for a lunch which may alter the course of his, or rather, her life.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Its a 2,300 mile trek from Macon Georgia almost straight across the United States to Los Angeles.

When Eadgils and the world was young, such a journey would have taken a year. But times have changed, and so the world has shrunk, even as it has grown.

Even so, while an airplane would make the trek in six to eight hours, if he were to drive straight through it would still take over thirty-six hours. While he did not like the exposed feeling of driving that distance, he liked the thought of dealing with the security hyperconscious airlines even less, since it would mean traveling just about naked, as far as weapons are concerned.

He sat in the car, mapping out the route for a bit. He could go through Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, stopping in Dora, right on the border of Arkansas and Oklahoma if he drove all day. Then on Monday, he could push on through Texas, and New Mexico, stopping at Albuquerque overnight, before continuing on through Arizona to get to California. Broken up that way, he would have about fourteen hours of driving each day. If he kept up the pace, he would be in Los Angels by Tuesday evening. Assuming, of course, he headed straight out to Oklahoma now. It was already a bit after ten in the morning, so decided he'd better get moving. Filling up the car's gas tank, he got out on the highway, and headed west.

Four uneventful hours later, he stopped in Adamsville, Alabama for some food, to top off the gas tank, and stretch aching legs.

Swinging into an Arby's, he parked, and headed inside.

First stop was the restroom, for some much needed relief. He caught himself just as he started to walk into the Men's Room. Turning instead back to the Women's Room, he headed in, and took care of his needs as clinically as possible.

He then washed his hands, and headed back out to the counter where he ordered a Giant Roast Beef, a side of Cheese Sticks, and a large drink.

Filling the cup with lemonade, so he wouldn't have to worry about caffeine, he sat down and awaited his number.

As it was called, a loud group of teenagers came in and milled before the menu, laughing and joking.

Heading up, he lifted his tray and had just turned to head back to the table with his drink on it when one of the kids knocked him from the side.

His tray jerked, and the box with the cheese sticks and the sandwich leapt into the air, only to be caught by the fast hands of a dark haired young man standing behind the group of teenagers.

Eadgils bent over to pick up the fallen, but still sealed package of marinara sauce, as the young man stepped forward, holding out the rest of his food.

"Here, Miss, I think these are yours," the guy said with a soft voice, with a definite southern drawl. But what really drew Eadgils's attention was the faint, almost undetectable tingle, signaling a pre-Immortal. Not as strong a one as The Girl's had been, but unmistakable in any case. Some claimed new Immortals couldn't detect pre-Immortals, because none of them ever seemed to do so until they were several hundreds of years old. Eadgils had always believed it wasn't inability, but rather inexperience. The signature of a pre-Immortal was the same as the one of a full fledged Immortal, in all but strength. Pre-Immortals had very weak Quickenings. Some times so faint you had to almost be touching them before you could detect it. But in any case, Eadgils certainly detected it coming from this young man.

"Thanks", he said letting the boy replace the food on his tray. Looking at him, Eadgils judged the kid to be in his middle to late twenties.

"No problem. I sort of saw what was comin' down, and thought I could lend a hand," he said, looking away from Eadgils eyes for a second to glance at his hands, still resting where they had just deposited the food back on the tray, "or I suppose two, in this case."

Eadgils stifled a groan, and instead smiled at the boy's attempt at humor.

"Anyhow, my name's Patrick." He continued, his eyes again leaving Eadgils face, to proceed in a swift, but unsuccessfully surreptitious scan down and back up Eadgils's body, hesitating both times in the region of the chest.

Feeling an unfamiliar flush, Eadgils said "Well, Patrick, mine's Sue, and I just want to say thanks again."

Turning, and resisting the urge to run, Eadgils headed back to his table, sitting deliberately with his back to the counter this time.

He had taken the first bite of sandwich, opened the marinara, and was about to dip his first cheese stick, when Patrick stepped around into view, holding a drink cup. "I was wonderin' Miss Sue, would you mind if I sat with you? I don't mean to impose or nothin, it's just, I dunno. I know it sounds corny, but I feel like I should know ya'all for some reason. I know I don't, heck, I ain't even from 'round here, I'm from Montgomery, just passin' through on ma way to Memphis. If you don't want me ta bother y'all, just say so, and I'll leave ya 'lone."

Eadgils hesitated. He had a good idea what it was that was attracting the young man to him, and he didn't think it was all just Sue's good looks. Just as an Immortal could sense a pre-Immortal, a pre-Immortal could sense an Immortal, if they knew what to listen for. Considering the strength of his Quickening, he had no doubt that on some level the boy in front of him was feeling the force of Eadgils Quickening, and quite possibly he was responding to it. Also, there was what he saw almost as a duty for the older Immortals to give a helping hand to the new ones. He had gotten help himself from Ralas oh so long ago. Without that one's sage advise, he was sure he would not be sitting here now. Actually, he thought with a giggle, as he nodded at Patrick, he really wasn't sitting here now. Sue was. But the meaning was still the same.

"So," Eadgils said as Patrick sat opposite him, "What are you doing heading to Memphis for?"

"Lookin' for a job, mostly. Got kin up there, hoping they can take me in, and that a new town 'll give me a better shot. Lost damn-all but my shirt back home. How bout you? You live 'round here?"

"Nope. I'm on my way back home. California." Eadgils replied.

"Darn! You're not going to try and be a TV star are ya? You're sure pretty enough, if ya don mind my sayen so, but all I ever hear are bad stories about folks who try that."

Stifling another giggle, Eadgils answered, "No. At least I don't think so. I haven't really planned on what I'm going to do once I get there. Lay around the house for a bit, get in touch with some friends, evaluate my life, and make a plan, is actually what I was thinking at this point. I'm sort of on vacation from my job."

"Woah. So what ya doin' in this place?" Patrick asked.

Eadgils couldn't help but smile, as he answered, "Eating lunch," while waving the dipped, but still uneaten cheese stick with a grin, "Or at least trying to."

Patrick got a sheepish look on his face, then looked over Eadgils's shoulder, and said "Oh, ma food!"

As they ate, Eadgils was able to draw a somewhat sad story out of Patrick.

Born and raised in a relatively poor family in Mississippi, he went away to college in Alabama, where he studied Computer Sciences. Degree in hand, he got a nice well-paying job at an up and coming dot-com. Life was great, and Patrick married a local girl he had been dating while in college, bought a nice house, and started to live his future.

But he and his wife could not get pregnant. Finally, they went to see some specialists, and several costly tests later, it was determined he was shooting blanks.

Literally the next day, he found himself locked out of the building where he worked. It seemed the company had gone bankrupt and hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Word was he shouldn't expect much of a final paycheck either, assets would be liquidated, and eventually the monies raised would be divided amongst the ex-employees on the basis of what percentage they were owed. That process could take as much as a year, however, and would likely yield less than 10% of what he was owed.

Five months and three missed mortgage payments later, and it was looking like the house was a goner as well. He still had not found a real job. His wife was literally harping at him so much he finally agreed to take a job at Radio Shack. Two weeks later instead of the much needed unemployment check, he received a letter informing him that since he now had a job, he no longer qualified for Unemployment. It was that same night when his wife told him she was pregnant, and leaving him for her new boyfriend. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Alimony.

He fell into a depression, stopped even going in to work, and just hid in the house, drinking the last of his money up as fast as it came in. When the phone company cut off the service, at least the bill collectors stopped calling. Unfortunately, the people from the bank decided to serve him the foreclosure papers in person, so that didn't help as much as one might think. His car had been repossessed about the same time he'd started pimping batteries for Radio Shack, so when they literally threw him out of the house (ok, they threatened to have him arrested if he didn't leave on his own.) he had nothing left. Just a bag of clothes. That was when he decided to catch a ride to Memphis. If nothing else, he could leach off his uncle for a while, and hopefully he could find a new job in a new town. He certainly couldn't do much worse than he had.

Eadgils shook his head. If ever there was someone on a bad streak, it was Patrick.

Looking down at his tray, he noted with dismay he had managed less than a third of his sandwich, and only two of the now cold and yucky cheese sticks. But he felt quite stuffed.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Patrick, but the time has come for me to hit the road again. Maybe I'll see you around sometime. Good Luck!"

"Ok," he said, standing and lifting his tray as well, then suddenly looking around in panic. "Crap! Where are those kids?"

Whirling, he tossed his tray back on the table and ran for the door.

Looking out through the window, Eadgils could see someone tossing a brown canvas suitcase out of a car, and drive away.

Patrick made it outside before the suitcase stopped rolling. Bending over, he picked it up, only to have the handle break loose on one side, causing the suitcase to swing back towards the ground and slide along it opening the zipper and spilling the contents into the dirt.

Eadgils had to fight an insane urge to laugh, the whole scene looking like something Laurel and Hardy would have staged in one of their films.

As Patrick bent down to start gathering his belongings, Eadgils made a decision. He could give the boy a lift to Memphis, he supposed. After all, picking up strays was something he was always good at.

Taking a deep breath, Eadgils headed on outside, and called to Patrick, "Need a new ride?"

Gesturing to the car he added, "I'll be passing through Memphis this evening, so I can drop you off, if you want."

Patrick looked up in amazement, then said "I'd be much obliged, Miss."

"It's Sue, ok?"

"Ok Sue."

========================== ==========================

Eadglis adopts a stray, or rather a student.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

It was close to 6:00pm when they finally reached the outskirts of Memphis.

Eadgils was ready to drop off Patrick, fill up the gas tank, and push on. He still had half of Tennessee, and all of Arkansas to cross, almost 300 miles to go to reach Dora, where he planned to stop for the night. If he got moving again right away, he would make it sometime between ten and eleven that evening. A bit ahead of schedule actually, despite the late start.

Patrick gave Eadgils directions to his uncle's house. Pulling up out front, he watched as Patrick got out of the car, and walk up the driveway towards the house.

As he put the car back in gear to start his search for a gas station, a bathroom, and a bit of fast food to eat on the road, a police car came screeching around the corner, lights flashing, and siren howling. Eadgils pulled the car over to the side to let the police have the right of way on the residential street. The first car was followed by a second, as the first swept past Eadgils, only to screech to a halt in front of Patrick's Uncle's house.

Eadgils shut off the engine even as the second car blew past him, its brakes screeching.

The cops in the first car had gotten out, and were shouting something at Patrick, who stood on the driveway, holding his suitcase in his hand.

The police yelled something else, and Patrick with a dumfounded look on his face lifted his arms up away from his body, even as the second car screeched to a stop, and opened its doors.

The officers from the first car had drawn their guns, and were still yelling at Patrick. It was at that point the remnant of the handle on Patrick's suitcase decided to finish the escape it had begun in the Arby's parking lot. Patrick's hand and arm jerked, as the suitcase started to fall towards the driveway. At the sudden motion, one of the cops pulled his trigger. Patrick followed his suitcase to the driveway, a shocked expression on his face as bright red arterial blood spurted into the evening sunlight from a gash in the side of his neck.

"DAMNIT!" Eadgils yelled in his car. Even from this distance, he knew Patrick had no chance. The bullet squeezed off by the spooked cop must have clipped his carotid artery. He would bleed to death before anything could be done.

Eadgils could now hear one of the officers from the second car yelling at the ones from the second, while the other one ran to Patrick's prone form where it lay on the concrete, blood pooling and running into the grass.

The front door of Patrick's uncle's house opened, and three people came out onto the porch, and looked on in wonder at the scene unfolding before their house.

One of the women seemed to recognize Patrick, and with a scream, ran off the porch and over to the officer who was kneeling over the body, speaking into his radio. The officer dropped his radio to land in the pool of blood, and turned his efforts to restraining the woman who was trying to reach the body.

As Eadgils opened the door and climbed out of his car, he could hear the officer from the second car saying "Maple street, not Walnut! And what were you thinking drawing your weapons!"

"I told him to stop and drop the box, he just turned around and looked at me, then when Paul said to raise his arms, he did so, but he still had that darn bag in his hands. I'm sure Paul didn't intend to shoot him, but heck, even I jumped a bit when he jerked and dropped the bag. He could have been going for a weapon. We knew he was armed!"

"No, you idiot, the perp over on MAPLE is armed. This poor SOB, ah screw it. Talk to I.A.D., I quit." The officer said, turning to start securing the area.

The second cop from the first car, the one who had shot Patrick, now stood in front of what Eadgils took to be Patrick's uncle, trying to explain how he came to shoot the man's nephew.

Regardless of the fates of the officers, Eadgils knew he wasn't going to make it to Doris that night. He would be in Memphis for at least this evening. He would need to find a hotel.

An Ambulance silently pulled in from the far end of the street as Eadgils stood off to the side of the crowd which had congregated around the scene. By this time, several other police cars had also parked all over the place, nicely blocking the middle of the street.

Police were taking pictures. Some of the uniformed officers helped move police cars out of the way so the Ambulance could get near the body.

Eventually, they transferred Patrick from the driveway to the Ambulance, and the vehicle drove away.

Eadgils in the meantime had headed back to the car, maneuvered it through the slalom course made of the parked police vehicles, and had rounded the corner, then turned right onto Maple, and passed another smaller cluster of police cars, before stopping just short of the corner. Thus, he was in a position to make a right turn and follow the slow moving Ambulance as it emerged onto the street and headed away from the area.

Keeping a discreet distance, Eadgils thought perhaps a Law career might not be so objectionable, after all he was already acting as an Ambulance Chaser. Why not get paid for it.

The ambulance finally turned into a Hospital parking lot and Eadgils followed, obtaining a ticket and parking the car in the public area.

He approached the Ambulance, trying to sense the strength of Patrick's Quickening, while the driver and his partner got out and went around to the back, then removed a covered stretcher which they pushed on into the hospital.

From what Eadgils could feel, Patrick was not only still dead, but it would be a good while before that condition changed.

Deciding that was likely for the better, he returned to his car, and pulled back out onto the street. Since it was under five minutes, he didn't even have to pay.

A bit up the street, he found a Days Inn. The sign said "Vacancy", so he pulled in and parked the car.

A quick trip to the lobby, and he had two adjoining outside rooms on the second floor, left side. Paid for again in cash, but they had taken a copy of Sue's Visa Check Card to cover any incidentals. They promised it would not be processed unless there were additional charges for the two rooms.

He went ahead and moved Sue's new suitcase full of clothes into the first of the two rooms, opened the connecting door, then went around to the second room, and opened the connecting door from it's side as well.

Next off, he shuttled the Laptop case up to "his" room, set it up, and logged on.

The news was covering the accidental shooting of a man locally. No additional information was available at that time, other than the person shot was declared dead at the scene, and an internal investigation was underway.

He checked his email, received a confirmation from the trustees that his instructions had been received, so he sent a reply, thanking them, and thus resetting the clock by another day. On that note, he also sent a message off to one of his foreign investment banks, resetting their own clock. It would be a shame if he lost his investments just because he was dead.

That taken care of, he put his mind to his forthcoming task. From what he could tell walking past Patrick's body, his Quickening was still quite low. This made sense, because if his body had bled out, then the body had to replace the blood before it could restart his heart, and also his life. Blood was mostly liquid. The effects of the Quickening, while seeming like magic to most, followed some simple, hard rules. That liquid had to come from somewhere. Moisture could be obtained from the air around the body. In this humidity, any moisture touching Patrick's skin was almost certain to be absorbed instantly, but if they placed him in a climate controlled storage box, such as most morgues tended to use, then the amount of environmentally available moisture would be severely curtailed. At that point, the Quickening wouldn't be able to any more, and would simply have to wait for things to change. Oh, sometimes it would try and restart an Immortal who was in a nonviable situation, it had even happened to him once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 1870, Wickenburg, Arizona

Eadgils was working as a mucker, the person who shoveled the remnants of trilled and blasted rock from the end of the mine tunnel into a ore cart, before he and his partner James, would push it out to where James crushed it, and sifted it in the shaker box, to extract the gold.

Not that there was much gold in this particular mine. Eadgils was thinking it was about time to cut his losses, and head back east. He had other investments, granted, much longer term, but certainly less laborious as well.

He was about to call out to James, when he felt the earth shift and rumble. The next mine over was blasting again. They were supposed to give out a warning before they set off a charge like that, give their neighbors a chance to get out just in case...

His thoughts were cut off abruptly; as he noticed exactly the 'in case' was happening. The last shoring timber had dislodged from its support beam, and the roof started to collapse.

Eadgils shoved on the ore cart with all the strength he could summon, since it was blocking his egress from the collapsing tunnel.

As the cart started to move forward however, the roof continued to come down, the shoring timber falling and blocking the tracks, stopping the cart and letting it roll back towards Eadgils.

It didn't get to roll far though, because the rest of the roof came down as well, and as the noise died away, Eadgils was left in a dark, dusty, and ominously quiet chamber, too short to stand up in, and too small to lay down in any direction either. He tried banging on the wall, to let James know he was still alive, but he didn't hear any response. Long after his arm started burning from fatigue, Eadgils found he could no longer manage to move the pick. "Air is going bad. Damn" he thought, and then all was silent and still, as Eadgils died.

Pain was his first reality. Pain of his heart starting, but more so, pain of hitting his head against both the low roof and the jagged wall as his body spasmed from a resurrection.

He was still in darkness, but at least the dust had settled. It had, at least until he started moving around again.

The air still did not smell any fresher though, in fact is bore a distinct stench. But he again tried to tap for help with his pick. Once more, after an unknowable time, but a much shorter one than before, his arms gave out, and he slipped back into death's temporary embrace.

Once more, his head was wracked by the pain of it's painfully impacting on the walls and roof of his small tomb, for that was what the sealed end of the mineshaft had certainly become.

As the pain faded, he determined the stench was at least better. The air now had a damp, musty smell, more of mildew than of death and decay. Once more, he tried to tap for help with his pick, but before long, the fatigue again overcame him and he slipped away.

"This is getting ridiculous" he thought to himself, as he again bashed his head against the roof and walls of his chamber upon reviving. The handle of the pick was slimed with mildew, but he grasped it anyhow, and again tapped, trying to get help. After an indeterminable amount of time, probably short, but subjectively quite long, most of which was spent envisioning an eternity of waking, dying, and waking again until the earth itself crumbled around him, he ran out of energy and drifted away once more.

This time, the entire episode was limited to a sudden explosion of sharp pain as his convulsion smashed his head fatally against a protruding corner of rock.

His next return was a bit different. Oh, it started with a spectacular burst of pain from his head as he once more brained himself against the wall, but what was different was his environment. He was now laying in water.

The musty smell was now a mossy smell, although there was no way moss could grow in the dark. But the water on the floor was a good two inches deep. Also, he heard a sound. A faint Clink-Chink, and a sound like water running in a streambed. He grasped the rotting handle of the pick, and once more pounded on the wall until the effort killed him once more.

He sat up with a jolt, the convulsive pain of resurrection shocking its way through his system, and though he expected it again, he did not hit his head on the way up this time, only on the way back down.

The air was fresh and clean. There was water running in a stream nearby, and there were voices as well. He opened his eyes, and saw light. Not much, as he was apparently laying on the floor of a mineshaft, with a canvas cover over him.

Pushing the canvas aside, he looked down the slope of the shaft, and could see it was night time outside. The interior of the shaft was light by oil lamps. Cautiously, he got to his feet, noting as he did how skeletally thin he had become during his ordeal. His clothed were literally rotted off of him, leaving him in tattered rags. He shuffled weakly to the mouth of the tunnel, where he could hear faint voices coming from a nearby camp fire.

"I ain't goin back in there 'till the Sheriff gets here and takes away the stiff. I always said that shaft was haunted, and we done found the haunt!"

"Now Willie," another calmer voice replied, "There is a perfectly scientific reason for the lack of corruption of the corpse. No air. It's been sealed in there all these years, ain't no way it could rot. Like one of those 'gyptian mommies we heard tale of, remember? Thousands of years old, and looking like they was layed away last week. It's the same thing. It don't make him no haunt."

"I tells you, I heard him cryin, An I heard him diggin, Minin he was with a ghost pick for ghost gold. I ain't goin back in there. No way no how. Charlie can muck the stuff hisself if he wants to, but I ain't goin in there!"

"Well, Charlie should be back soon with the Sheriff. They'll take care of the body. Then everything will be back to normal. Ok?"

"I just ain't goin in there. Scared me half to death when I found 'em it did. Damn near 'spected him to open his eyes and introduce me to the devil hisself, I did."

"Just rest some. Charlie and the Sheriff will be here any time."

Eadgils decided it was better to be an absent corpse than an active one, so he turned away from the fire, and headed off as cautiously as he could towards town, trying his best not to leave any tracks, despite his lack of strength or energy.

Eventually, he passed a series of shacks as he approached the town, and bending to necessity, he crept as quietly to the windows of several as he passed, and looked inside each one in turn. From one he stole some bread. From another he pulled a shirt off a chair just in reach. A third he fished a tin cup from a forlorn table.

His boots were still marginally serviceable, he now had a rough shirt which fit him, but smelled worse than he did, but he would need to find some pants from somewhere, least he continue to look like the walking dead. He would also need a wash, and quite soon. He didn't think Wickenburg would be a very healthy place for him to hang around for too long, not once his absence from the mine shaft was noted.

Turning towards Morristown, a good eleven mile walk from the other side of Wickenburg, but it was also in the other direction from the mine, and he certainly never wanted to go anywhere near there again.

Continuing his stealthy examination of shacks, he finally found a pair of wool trousers which looked like they would normally be a good fit. Given his current condition they would hang more like a tent, but if beggars can't be choosers, sneak thieves have even less room for discretion.

He also literally stumbled over a sleeping chicken, and stooping swiftly, yet painfully, he managed to capture it before it could raise a ruckus, and snapped its neck. If he could build a fire, he could eat at least. But first to put some miles between himself and Wickenburg before daylight.

When he finally made it to Morristown two days later, he found out he had been buried in the mine for almost thirty years. America was at war, and fighting Spain of all things.

Despite his reluctance, after getting a job in Morristown for a few weeks, earning enough for a new wardrobe, and putting enough meat back on his bones to look normal again, he hiked back to Wickenburg, and went back up to the mine.

When he arrived there, one of the miners, apparently Willie, saw him, let out a scream, dropped his pick, and ran for town.

Two more men, one of them Charlie, the mine's owner came out to see what was going on.

Eadgils introduced himself as Gil Gilis, Ed Gilis's son.

He said he had heard his father's body had finally been found in the old mine, and had come by to see to it he was buried proper and Christian-like.

Charlie had explained that while they had indeed found his father, that someone had apparently stolen the corpse, and made off with it while Charlie was off to get the Sheriff.

Eadgils forgave Charlie for losing the body, and asked about any personal effects which may have been recovered, especially an old sword which Ed had always kept with himself.

Charlie had indeed recently dug the blade up, somewhat rusted without having been cleaned for over thirty years, but the case it had been kept in had protected it all through the cave-in, it's internment, and recovery.

Eadgils, being able to describe both the case, the scabbard, and the sword, including its inscriptions was able to convince Charlie to give it to him.

Eadgils gratefully accepted the "Family Sword", and again exonerated Charlie for his having lost his father's body.

With his almost seven hundred year old sword back in his possession, Ed had walked back to Morristown, where he lived for four years under the Gil Gilis identity until moving west to San Francisco in 1903.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, Eadgils figured he had at least a few hours before Patrick would try waking up, longer even if the doctors tried to do an autopsy on him, however unless the coroner had a night shift, that probably wasn't a concern.

It was coming up on eight in the evening, and Eadgils decided he would need some supplies; it wasn't like he could just walk in and carry Patrick out. Patrick would have to leave on his own two feet.

And to get out without raising a huge fuss, Patrick would also have to look more like one of the living, not one of the dead. That meant shoes, pants, shirt, etc. But Eadgils had a problem with that - he had no idea what sizes Patrick would wear.

But, at 8:00pm on a Sunday, where could he get clothes in Memphis? Looking down at the phone book, he came up with a good possibility; Wal-Mart.

Heading back down to the office, he stopped in and got directions to the nearest Wal-Mart.

Fifteen minutes later, he was wandering the florescent lighted isles, pushing a silver and red cart, in search of clothes for a man whose sizes he really didn't know.

Stopping off in the shoes section, he decided when in doubt, go a bit large.

Patrick had stood enough higher than Sue that Eadgils, standing next to him found his Adam's Apple at eye height. That put him about eight inches taller than Sue's 5'6, or about 6'2. Based on that, he selected a pair of black size 13 track shoes, and then because they were hopefully a bit too large, a whole package of thick, black tube type socks.

In the camping section, he obtained a spool of fishing line, the brightest six cell Mag-light, and the largest holstered knife they had.

He added a set of batteries for the flashlight, and some lead sinker weights before he literally pushed on into the store, heading for the clothing section.

Over in the Men's Clothing area, he selected a large black T-Shirt, and a pair of black workout pants, size 36, 38. Again hopefully too large, but the cuffs could be rolled up, and the waist cinched in with the drawstring until they fit. The t-shirt should cover them, hopefully.

Finally, he added a nice four and a half foot long black trench coat. After all, he would need such a coat in the future.

Continuing through the store, he added a medium sized black canvas duffel bag, a can of Hair Spray, and a case of Gatorade in large sports bottles.

Finally, he swung through the school supply isle and picked up a the largest, strongest looking pair of scissors he could find before heading up to the front to ring up his purchases.

Once in the car, he used the scissors to cut the tags off of everything, then he transferred all the purchases into the duffel bag, discarding the carton from the Gatorade in a dumpster along with the tags and the plastic bags from the store.

He then returned to the hotel, where he removed the Katana and its scabbard from his coat, pulled off his shirt, and removed the Bowie Knife and its carrier as well.

Opening Sue's suitcase, he removed a low cut black t-shirt, and a red top with a collar. He pulled off the blue jeans he was wearing and switched them for one of the two pairs of black jeans, then donned first the black top, followed by the red one on top of it, rolling up the sleeves of the black top so they wouldn't show.

He then collected his jacket, and returned to the car.

Once in the car, he added the jacket to the duffel bag, then started the engine and drove back to the Hospital.

Parking once again in the public lot, he collected the duffel bag and headed into the Hospital. Once in the lobby, instead of bothering the nurse, he strode purposefully towards the elevator, and pushed the DOWN button.

He had learned long ago, if you acted like you knew what you were doing and belonged where you were, you were almost never questioned as to who you were or what you were doing. On the other hand, if you looked around confused, people were more likely to challenge you, either to get you out of somewhere you didn't belong, or to help you out because that was their job.

Entering the elevator, he noted there were two sub-levels which didn't require a key, and a third which did.

Since he didn't have a key for the lowest level, he pushed the button for the one above it. Hopefully that was where the Morgue was. If not, he could always look around and try to find some stairs.

As the elevator descended, he removed the red top, placing it in the duffle bag.

Emerging on S2, he was relieved to see a sign labeled "Morgue" with an arrow pointing down the hall to his right. He was a bit less relieved to see the not too subtly mounted video camera pointing at the door labeled "No Admittance", but that was what the hairspray was for.

A brief squirt, not enough to do much to the lens, but enough to fog it so recognition would be difficult at best from any footage obtained, and he went on in through the door, can held in front of his body so the image from the camera would not show it.

On the other side of the door, there was another camera, fortunately pointing at the small empty, call it reception room, with it's single Stelecase desk and roller chair, computer console and phone. The phone had a line light active, so Eadgils assumed that somewhere was an attendant, speaking on the phone to someone about something. But whoever and wherever they were, they were not here.

Another hit with the hairspray on the new camera, and Eadgils was ready to try something he had not attempted in over two hundred years.

He set the duffel bag at his feet, and slipped the hairspray can into his pocket, then he stood in the center of the reception room, and tried to focus his mind and body into a single conscious force.

As his breathing and heart rate slowed, he relaxed his awareness of his body, focusing instead within himself. He then stretched himself out, focusing all his energy on the part of his mind which responded to other Immortals. He could almost feel himself expanding, stretching out in an ever growing sphere, and then, there. He felt Patrick. Off to the left, perhaps sixty feet away.

Even at full strength an Immortal as young and new to the Game should be undetectable unless he was within a couple dozen feet or less. Furthermore, some Immortals could not sense a dead Immortal at all, but that was a trick Eadgils had learned thousands of years before, from his first Immortal student, a fellow victim of Death and his Horsemen named Cassandra. She must be long gone by now, despite her mental and spiritual talents, the poor girl had been so twisted by her term of captivity as a slave and a plaything for Death that she was not quite sane. But she had been able to teach her teacher some tricks he had never heard of anywhere else.

That talent, coupled with the meditative focus he had learned thousands of years later, combined with the strength of his own Quickening allowed him to pull off some pretty impressive tricks as well, he reflected as he gathered himself back in, his eyes again opening as he took a deep, cleansing breath, almost like waking from the dead, only without the convulsions.

Bending down to pick up the duffel bag, he approached the doorway on his left, and cautiously looked through it.

His luck so far with cameras failed him here, as he could see a camera mounted on the far wall which would cover anyone entering the room.

There was a simple solution which he had planned on, but it was not as subtle as his actions so far. If anyone was monitoring the cameras, what Eadgils was about to do would almost certainly be noticed, even though it would be as effective as the hair spray for preserving anonymity should he get away.

Pulling out the flashlight, he turned it on and pointed it at the far wall, focusing it to the tightest beam he could. He then lifted the flashlight up and held it directly in front of his face, bathing the camera in the light. He then walked forward as quickly as he could, and with his free hand, pulled out the hair spray, and gave this camera a good thick coat, until the lens actually looked frosted.

Shutting off the flashlight, he went back to the door and retrieved the duffel bag, and entered the storage room again.

This time, no meditation was needed to identify the proper drawer. He could feel the faint whickering of Patrick's Quickening as it worked to heal his body and restore life.

Opening the proper drawer as quickly and quietly as possible, he pulled the first bottle of Gatorade out of the duffel bag, twisted off the top, and literally poured it into Patrick's mouth. He followed the first bottle with a second, and then a third.

As he did so, he listened as well as he could for any sign of activity outside the room.

He fingered the fishing weights held loosely in his left hand, as he lifted the fourth bottle of fluid to pour into Patrick's mouth.

Eadgils could feel the strength of Patrick's Quickening building fast now. So far, there was no sign anyone had noticed anything unusual and come to investigate.

With a shuddering gasp, Patrick suddenly sat up, spitting out Gatorade.

"Wha-what's hapennin?" he asked, taking in the morgue and his location in it with a bewildered glance.

"No time for that," Eadgils said, closing the lid on the half empty fourth bottle of Gatorade, and returning it to the duffel bag. "We got to get you out of here, without being noticed. Now, here, put this on. He said, handing the T-Shirt and workout pants to Patrick. "Quickly!"

Patrick automatically grasped the proffered clothes, but did no more than bemusedly stare at them as they dangled from his hand.

"Look, I'll explain later, but any minute, either an attendant or a guard is going to come walking through that door, and in either case I don't want to be around to try and explain things to THEM. Do you understand me, we have to HURRY! Now, get dressed!"

As Patrick started to put the shirt on, Eadgils fished out the scissors, and reached for the tag on Patrick's left big toe. "Hold your foot still for a moment." He said, snipping the wire and letting the tag flutter to land on the steel table top with a soft "tink".

"Ouch! That hurt" Patrick complained, his head poking through the top of the T-Shirt.

"Sorry. Now get your pants on. Come on, we gotta get OUT OF HERE!"

Patrick pulled on the sweat pants, and tied the string snuggly around his waist. The waist was bunched, but the length was actually about a half-inch too short, ending at his ankles.

"What shoe size are you?" Eadgils asked Patrick.

"What kinda question's that? I thought you said we had ta get outa here?" Patrick answered.

"A very simple one, oh, Mr. Barefoot one. Now, WHAT SIZE SHOES DO YOU WEAR?" Eadgils responded, the aggravation evident in his rising tone, even though his voice remained at the same quite volume it had retained the entire time.

"Uh, Size eleven. What, You mad 'cause I got big feet?"

"No, here," Eadgils said, passing the bag filled with Tube Socks to Patrick, "Put at least four pairs of these on."

"Ain't one pair usually 'nuff?" Patrick asked with a grin, pulling out the first pair, separating one of the socks, and pulling first it, then it's partner over his right foot.

"Not when you have size eleven feet, and size thirteen shoes it isn't. You can only tighten them up so much with the laces, you know."

"I woan even ax why, for now." Patrick responded, pulling the second pair out of the bag, and adding them both to his already covered fight foot again.

"That's a good idea." Eadgils answered.

Suddenly, Eadgils heard a door open in the lobby, he could not tell if it was the other door to the right of the desk, or the door from the hallway leading to the elevator, but in either case it was not exactly a welcome sound to his ears. "Shhh. Someone's outside. Finish getting dressed." He said, laying the shoes on the table.

Creeping to the door, he looked out into the lobby. The light on the phone had gone off, and a young man was now sitting at the desk, poking unenthusiastically at the computer's keyboard.

"Damn!" Eadgils hissed.

Patrick was finished getting dressed, and now stood anxiously by the table he had been laying down on.

Eadgils returned to his side, and gestured to the table. "Ok, lay down."

"What?" Patrick said, his voice rising to a squeak at the end.

"I said, lay down. We have to get out of here PAST the attendant, without raising an alarm, and I'd rather do it without killing anyone."

Patrick laid down as instructed, and Eadgils lifted the duffel bag and laid it between Patrick's knees. "Now, I'm going to close the drawer. I want you to count to thirty, slowly, and then start banging like you want to get out of there."

"What do a mean 'like', I'm not even in there, 'an I already wan out. Boy are you gonna owe me big time for this." He replied.

Eadgils slid the drawer back in, and closed the door, then crept over to the door. He was about half way across the room when Patrick started banging enough to wake the dead. "Next time, I'd better make it sixty." He said to himself, forgoing stealth for speed, hurrying to place himself just behind the door, even as it swung open and the attendant rushed in to see what was making the noise.

Patrick's voice filtered faintly from the box, "Hey! Leme outa here!" and the attendant stared in horror, his attention so focused on the impossible scene in front of him that he did not notice the movement as Eadgils shuffled up behind him, paused focusing his energy, then darted out with his hands and grasped the man's neck, pinching the carotid artery and squeezed for all he was worth, shutting off the flow of blood to the attendant's brain.

As the man passed out, Eadgils caught him, staggering under the unaccustomed weight, and lowered him to the floor, then opened up the door, and slid the still yelling Patrick out.

"Man! Don' 'yall EVER do that ta me again!" he said, leaping off the table, and bending over to take a deep, shaking breath.

"Quiet. This may work better than I thought. Help me get him on the table." Eadgils said, walking back over to the unconscious attendant's body.

"You don't mean you're gonna. Oh man. That's evil!" Patrick said, as he helped lift the man and carried him over, to dump him on the table he himself had so recently vacated.

"Take his shirt, and put it on over your T-Shirt." Eadgils instructed tersely, collecting the duffel bag from the floor where it had fallen when Patrick leapt off the table.

Eadgils then slid the drawer back into the wall, and pushed the door closed, leaving it just a bit ajar, not wanting to accidentally suffocate the attendant.

Checking that Patrick had the light blue hospital shirt on, he said tersely, "Now follow me, and if anything happens, let me handle it."

Handing Patrick the duffel bag, Eadgils took the flashlight in his left hand, and transferred the fishing weights from his coat pocket back to his right hand, then pushed the door open with his fist, and looked out at the morgue's reception room.

Proceeding through the room, he repeated the process of carefully opening the door to the hallway, then he turned to Patrick and said, "Wait here. I'm going to get the elevator. When I tell you to, I want you to RUN, you got it?"

"Ok." Patrick said.

Eadgils strode down the hallway, stopped before the elevator, and pushed the UP button.

As the up light came on, and the bell dinged, he called "Ok, Patrick, RUN!"

Patrick dashed down the hall even as the doors were opening, and followed Eadgils into the elevator.

Eadgils took the duffle bag from Patrick at this point and fished in it for the red top and both jackets. Pulling them out of the duffel, he pushed the first floor button, and pulled on the red top as the doors closed saying, "Ok, toss that blue shirt in the bag, and put on the coat."

Shrugging into his own coat, Eadgils zipped up the duffel and lifted the strap over his shoulder even as the door opened on the main lobby of the hospital.

A glance to his left showed Patrick, now wearing the black t-shirt and trench coat, standing nervously by his side.

"Ok, last part. Follow me out, act normal, and like you are in a hurry. Don't talk to anyone, or even look at anything other than the door. Got that?" he asked Patrick.

"Ok."

They proceeded across the lobby and out the door, across the drive, and into the parking lot without incident. Once to the car, Eadgils opened the doors, threw the duffle bag in the back seat, and got behind the steering wheel.

"We'll be at the hotel in just a few minutes. Just hold it together 'till we get there, and then I'll try to explain everything. Ok?" he asked, starting the car as Patrick settled himself in the passenger seat.

"Ok." Patrick responded flatly.

Five silent minutes later, Eadgils parked the car, collected the duffel bag from the back seat and went around to the back of the car. Setting the duffel bag down, he opened the trunk and extracted the knapsack which held the bloody blouse Sue had been wearing the day she died. Closing the trunk back up, he lifted the duffel bag, which he handed to Patrick saying "Here, carry this," and led the way upstairs to their rooms.

Once inside Patrick's room, Eadgils opened the duffel bag and extracted the blue scrub shirt, which he transferred to the knapsack. "Gotta remember to burn this somewhere safe. Too much in here would raise too many questions if it turned up anywhere. Ok Patrick. Go ahead. You can now ask whatever questions you may have."

"Ok. Why?" Patrick asked.

"Why what?" Eadgils responded, confused.

"Why all that rigmarole at the 'ospittal for one. Why was I in a Morgue, and why'd ya have to practically bust me out of it like I was inna prison for 'nother. WHY?" he asked, an edge of panic creeping in to his voice at the end.

"Well, before all that, what's the last thing you remember" Eadgils asked.

"Last thing? You dropped me off at Uncle Phil's, and then there was some cops." His voice suddenly trailed off into silence.

"And?" Eadgils prompted.

"And, then they shot me?" Patrick answered in confusion.

"Yes. That's about right. And then you died. You might not remember that part. Sometimes you will forget the actual dying."

"I'm dead?" Patrick squeaked. "I mean, I know I was in a morgue, but DEAD?"

"Not quite. You died. You just got better. Happens sometimes." Eadgils explained.

"But. How? I'm not a Vampire or something, am I? Or one of those Living Dead like in the movies?"

"No, you aren't a Vampire, nor are you a Living Dead. You my young friend are an Immortal." Eadgils answered.

"What's that? Like some sort of comic book character?"

"No, not really. As an Immortal, we heal from almost any wounds, all but one." Eadgils responded.

"We?" Patrick queried.

"We. I, like you am an Immortal." That said, he bent down, and pulled the boot knife from it's folder on is right calf, and clenching his teeth against the anticipated pain, sliced the heel of his left hand, and holding it out for inspection as the blood welled up from the razor thin cut.

"Oh my gawd" Patrick said, starting to panic, however his attention was suddenly captured as small bluish sparks started stitching their way back and forth all along the cut, until nothing was left but the blood on the hand. "What was that?" he asked.

"That, Patrick was what we call the Quickening. It is the force within all Immortals, to a greater or a lesser degree. It is what heals our wounds, restarts our hearts, and stores our memories. It is also acts as a warning as well, letting us know of the presence of others of our kind."

"How is that?" Patrick asked.

"When two Immortals meet, their Quickenings interact, kind of like some sort of radar, letting each know of the other's presence, and if one pays enough attention to it of their relative strengths in the Game?"

"What game's that? Somethin' like football, or more like checkers? I'm good at checkers, but I suck eggs at football." Patrick added.

"More like Chess, only with one piece, and you are that piece. Lose the piece, and lose the Game. Lose the Game, and lose your life. For good."

"Whah. I don't like the idea of playin for stakes that high. How do ya tell folks ya doan wanna play?"

"You can't. If two Immortals meet, they don't automatically have to fight. I know lots of Immortals, and none of them would raise a hand against another without provocation. But if a challenge is extended, it must be met. And if it is met, a fight will result, and from that fight, only one Immortal will walk away.

"We live by three rules as Immortals. First is 'All fights are one-on-one' This rule is mostly a matter of honor, and some will violate it on occasion, so you must always be wary. Rule two, is 'Holy ground is off limits for fights and challenges.' Basically, when two Immortals meet on holy ground, any type of holy ground, it matters not the god, goddess, or faith, they can not fight. If you try, bad things happen. Trust me, you never want to be involved in a fight on Holy Ground. I was forced once to defend myself and after the second blow we were both on the ground, and it felt like my head was going to explode. And finally, rule three, 'In The End, There Can Be Only One.' That rule is sort of self explanatory."

"But, I don't understand. What makes people Immortal? Is it somethin ya did ta me?"

"No, Immortals are born that way, not Immortal per say, they start out, grow up, and live as a normal Mortal. The only differences being all of them are foundlings,"

"I was adopted." Patrick interrupted, "never really thought much of it, I was treated just like the rest of my family, but Ma and Pa, they had ta adopt 'cause Ma had some problem."

"Yes, no one knows where infant Immortals come from. In almost four thousand years no Immortal I have ever heard of has found the source of the babies. Secondly,"

"Maybe when a Mama Immortal and a Papa Immortal get together in that 'special way..." Patrick interrupted again.

"No. As I was saying, secondly, all Immortals are sterile. They can neither sire nor bear children."

"Anything else?" Patrick asked.

"I suppose two other things, pre-imortals have a Quickening like all full Immortals, only very faint, hard to detect, that was how I knew what you were though. And finally, when they first die, unless they lose their heads, they will rise again."

"So that's why ya wanted me to keep calm in the morgue? So I wouldn't lose my head?"

"No, that's silly. I mean really lose your head. Decapitation. It is the one permanent way to kill an Immortal."

"But why would someone want to kill me for? I ain't gonna do nuttin to them, honest." Patrick complained.

"Doesn't matter. Some will want your head just for your Quickening. Remember the third rule."

"So then what?" Patrick asked.

"Then, whatever you want. You could live for thousands of years, if you keep your head about you." Eadgils answered with a grin, turning for the door to his room. "We'll talk more tomorrow. Whatever you do, don't answer the door or use the phone. Remember, you are dead as far as everyone is concerned, and considering the circumstances, we have to keep it that way. You said you wanted a new start, well this is about as new as you can get."

"Too bad I had ta die ta get it." Patrick muttered.

"Tell me about it." Eadgils replied, "Good night."

Eadgils exited the room, and closed the adjoining door, locking it on his side, before turning to the bathroom to wash his hand, get a shower, and get to bed.

========================== ==========================

Originally Posted to Classic BC July 18, 2004

Sue is NOT happy with the recent course of events.

by Dana Short

Warning: This chapter contains strong emotion, expressed by even stronger language.

========================== ==========================

Eadgils was sitting in what he had named jokingly The Dojo of the Mind, when Sue finally showed up.

He was unsure of how long he had been there, time was odd in this place, but it had felt like he had been sitting on the mat for years.

When Sue finally stepped into view he rose, and turned to her. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"Thinking." She replied.

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"You should be here. You have a lot to learn if you are going to survive long in the Game. You of all people should know that."

"Yeah. Like it really matters anyhow. Seems like you are just fine living for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Why didn't you kick that redneck bastard in the nuts the second he started trying to come on to you? Instead, you pretty much fucking ADOPTED him! What the hell am I supposed to do with a STUDENT?"

"Calm down Sue. Anger won't help anything. What's done is done." Eadgils responded, shocked by the vehemence of her sudden outburst. "What are you so angry about anyhow?"

"I am a WATCHER. I CAN'T ADOPT AN IMMORTAL! How can I have one following me around like a fucking PUPPY?"

"What would you have had me do? Leave him to fend for himself?" Eadgils asked, honestly. The dojo had vanished, leaving nothing but the eternal darkness, with the small lighted area surrounding them, unbroken this time by either the wall or table which had been here before, assuming this was the same place as before.

"If you hadn't picked him up in the first place, he'd probably still be alive. GODS! Can't you meet anyone without totally fucking up their lives?"

"Hey I resent that! I have met lots of people without fucking up their lives! I have done so consistently for almost four thousand YEARS!"

"Yeah, but when you fuck up a life, you REALLY FUCK UP THE LIFE, DON'T YOU?" she yelled, "I mean, look at me. I'm a Watcher. A FUCKING WATCHER, WHO'S SUPPOSED TO WATCH IMMORTALS, AND NOT INTERFERE! Suddenly, the next thing I know, I'm one of those fucking Immortals I'm supposed to watch, what's more, I have the fucking GHOST of another fucking Immortal stuck in my fucking head, and now that fucking ghost has fucking adopted another goddamed fucking Immortal! GODDAMNIT!" Sue screeched.

"Well I'm the one who's DEAD! Do you see me complaining about it?" Eadgils asked, finally loosing his cool as well.

"Yes." Sue replied flatly, her glare hard enough to cut diamond.

"Ok. Bad example." Eadgils replied. "Well, what's done is done. I'm sorry if I have needlessly complicated your life. I'll leave you alone from now on!" With that, Eadgils strode to the wall, which had somehow returned, stormed through the door, and slammed it behind him, leaving Sue alone in the formless darkness.

As water started to fall from the sky, Sue turned away from the wall and sank down in the rain on the muddy grass of the hilltop and just cried. She cried and cried until finally she drifted off to oblivion, sleeping a normal sleep, and dreaming normal dreams.

Of Eadgils, there was no sign.

========================== ==========================

As if Sue didn't need any more complications, who is the Immortal hunting Eadglis's trail?

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

It was a bright morning when Sue awoke.

First off, she hit the shower, washed her hair, and got dressed, automatically putting on both the Bowie knife and the stiletto before pulling on her shirt and her pants.

That taken care of, she collected her cell phone, and called the increasingly familiar Seacouver number.

"Joe's Bar." Said some female voice.

"Uh, yeah, is Mike there?"

"Hold on a moment. May I ask who's calling?"

"Tell him it's Sue."

"Hey there Suzie-q" came another familiar voice, not Mike's.

"Hey Joe."

"You make it to L.A. yet?"

"Nope. I'm stuck in Memphis, and I have an, er, complication."

"A complication." Joe asked, an odd tone in his voice.

"Yes." She replied.

"In Memphis?" Joe asked again.

"Yes."

"Uh, this wouldn't be a complication which might last a long time, would it?" Joe asked.

Before she could answer, another phone picked up. "Hi Sue! Make it home yet?"

"No Mike. As I was just telling Joe, something has come up." She answered.

"You know, Joe and I were just looking at some reports. There seems to be a lot of activity right now in Memphis." Mike responded.

"Sue, you don't know anything about the young man who was shot by the cops, and then had his body stolen last night by necrophilic terrorists do you? We were speculating it might be someone who should have an eye kept on them."

Sue couldn't help but laugh at the mental imagery raised by Joe's question.

"Sue?" Mike asked in concern.

"Necrophilic terrorists. Heh. Uh, yeah. That was kind of why I was calling. Remember when I said I might have to leave the Watchers? Well, I think I need to tender my resignation right now."

"What?" Mike asked.

"Why?" asked Joe at the same time.

"I'm Immortal." Sue said simply.

"Come again?" Joe asked.

Realizing this was not the time to come clean on the whole situation, she rephrased herself "I said 'An Immortal'. As in sleeping in the room next door."

"How do you know?" Joe asked while Mike asked "What happened?" both pretty much at once.

"I, uh, put him there. After I broke him out of the morgue."

"You What!" Joe exclaimed.

"Now Joe, there must have been a good reason. Sue?" Mike intervened.

"I said I broke him out of the morgue." Sue clarified. "I saw him die, and I couldn't very well leave him there. He had no idea what he is."

"Why would you do something like that?" Joe asked.

"Well, you could say I wasn't acting quite myself lately." Sue replied, earning a long silence.

"Yeah, well you might have even more long lived problems. Cassandra seems to be following you." Mike finally responded.

"Mike," Joe began.

"Not only that, but another one is already there. Do you know Du..." Mike continued.

"MIKE!" Joe yelled.

"What?" Mike asked, frustrated at being cut off.

"Mike, that's enough. Let me handle this. Sue, given the circumstances, I can't accept your resignation at this point in time. I am sure you are aware of how badly you have broken your oath though, and I can't tell you how disappointed in you I am at the moment. At the same time, as you know, I myself have blurred the line before, when the Hunters were after Duncan. I know how stressful it can be to lose your assignment, and I understand the special circumstances surrounding your involvement in Eadgils's loss as well. I can even see how you might feel like saving another Immortal could help balance the scales, but you have to understand, this is part of why we can't get involved. First it is a balancing of the scales, then it is something else.

"Now, Mike, I can agree with your warning her about Cassandra, since she really does seem to be following Sue, but until we get this all sorted out, Sue, while I can't accept a resignation from you over the phone, I can and will suspend you from active service immediately. I will be terminating your network access and passwords as soon as I hang up the phone, so please don't try to access any Watcher resources. Mike, please don't pass along any information about other Immortals to Sue without clearing it with me, and Sue, if you encounter any other Watchers, please don't make contact with them. I will instruct them that you have been suspended, due to your circumstances, and ongoing contact with an Immortal. Is everybody clear?"

"Yes." Came Mike's voice in a flat monotone.

"Yes Joe." Sue responded. "And Joe?"

"Yes Sue?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Take care my little Susie-q. I know how difficult a spot you're in right now. Remember, at some point you will need to explain your actions, possibly even to a Tribunal. Our oath is not something to take lightly. Even resigning from active service doesn't relive you of it, you know."

"I know." Sue replied.

"Joe?" Sue asked.

"Yes, Sue?"

"Can you tell me about Cassandra? She's really following me?"

"Since she seems to be following you, I guess I can tell you what I know. She flew in to Savannah Saturday afternoon. She must have left within a few hours of Eadgils's death. When she arrived, she went straight to the alley where he had been killed. She looked around, never crossing the police tape, but she seemed unsatisfied about something. Saturday night, she checked into a hotel near the crime scene. On Sunday morning, she headed to Macon Georgia. She poked around a Motel 6 there for a while, prowled around the place, then specifically requested room 2152. She spent a few hours there, sleeping, we think, then late last night, she got back in her rental car and headed off towards Atlanta. She didn't stop there though, she kept driving all night long, and a while ago her tail checked in, saying she'd just arrived in Memphis. We did some checking, and it took us a while, but you stayed for two nights in room 2152 in the Macon Georgia Motel 6, didn't you?" Joe asked.

"Uh, yeah." Sue answered, a chill running up and down her spine.

"We thought so. We were about to call you and see where you were, and tell you to be careful." Mike added.

"Ok, although what can I possibly do if Cassandra comes after me?" Sue answered.

"Do you still have that Hunter's gun?" Joe asked.

"Uh, yeah. I haven't found a good place to dump it yet." Sue answered.

"You could always shoot her and run away." Joe replied.

"Um, Joe, that didn't work too well for the girl in Terminator." Mike offered.

"No, but it's about all I can recommend. Anything more would be a blatant violation of her oath. Sue, I know you wouldn't do such a thing, but if you were to kill an Immortal, under any circumstances, you have to know that there would be a full Tribunal, with you charged as a Hunter, right?" Joe added.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Sue replied.

"Good. You know, even as disappointed as I am with you right now, I still care about you a great deal. I would hate to see a verdict of guilty levied against you. You know as well as anyone that the penalty for that would be death. But at the same time, I can't allow my feelings for you or my memories of your father to get in the way of my doing my job. Under these circumstances, warning you is about the best I can do. Do you understand?"

"I suppose so." Sue answered.

"Ok then. I'll let you talk to Mike alone for a bit. You take care, ok sweetheart?"

"Ok Joe. Bye." Sue replied.

She could then hear a thunk-click as the phone was hung up.

"Sue, you still there?" Mike asked gently.

"Yeah." Sue answered flatly, her emotions having run completely dry.

"You gonna be ok?"

"I suppose. As long as Cassandra doesn't kill me." She answered.

"Ok then. Adam was worried about you. He's the one who actually thought it might be you who was responsible for the 'necrophilic terrorist attack' on the morgue last night. Neither of us believed him, of course. I guess he knows you better than we do, heh? I didn't know you two had gotten so close in France." Mike said.

"I didn't either," Sue replied, "As I said I really wasn't myself last night. I'm not sure what came over me, I'd given Patrick a ride to town, and during the course I found out he was Immortal. Then, when he got shot, well, something must have snapped or something. I dunno. I still don't know what to do about it."

"Well, I have faith in you. Despite what Joe said, you have the potential in you to be one of our best Watchers. I'd hate to see you throw it all away because you ended up in a bad situation caused by a bunch of Hunters. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, Mike, I do." Sue replied.

"Ok then. I'll let you get going. You really might want to hit the road quickly if Cassandra is on your trail. I don't know that I believe even half the things in her chronicle, but even if I do only believe the other half, she can do some weird things."

"Ok Mike, I'll get out of here as soon as I can. I'll let you know where I am tomorrow."

"Alright. Take care."

"Will do. Bye Mike. And thanks for the warning about Cassandra."

"No problem. Bye."

As the phone went dead, Sue got up and looked around the room, then looked at the connecting door to the other room.

She went to the connecting door, and knocked on it as loudly as she could. "Patrick!" she called.

"Wha?" she heard faintly from the other side of the door.

"Get up, we've got to get out of here, pronto."

As quickly as she could, she packed up Ed's laptop, then turned to her luggage. She was just tossing her dirty clothes into a plastic bag when she felt the tingle of another Quickening coming into range.

Freezing for a moment, she looked at the door to the other room, then walked over to it and knocked again. "Patrick?" she called.

"Come in" he replied.

Opening the door, she stepped in, and found Patrick standing by the bed, clothed in the same outfit he had worn last night when they arrived here from the hospital. "My brain itches." Patrick said simply.

As she took another step towards him, she suddenly felt the edge of another Quickening brush against hers. Patrick cringed at the same instant, and said "The itch just got lots worse."

At that moment, there was a firm but insistent knocking at the door to Patrick's room.

Darting over to the window, Sue looked out.

"Housekeeping" came a male voice.

Through the window, Sue could see a cart, but nothing else.

Glancing at Patrick, she cautiously opened the door, and stepped back, wishing she had thought to put on at least one of the knives that morning, and forgetting that she had already donned them.

The open door revealed a man in Days Inn uniform, a maid's cart beside him.

"Sorry," he said. "I can come back later if you're not ready yet."

"Please do," Sue answered him, her heart rate slowly subsiding to a normal pace. "Also, please wait on the room next door, it's mine as well." She finished, gesturing towards her own room, and the open door in between.

"Ok. Have a nice day." The man said, backing out of the door, and closing it behind him.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked.

"That itch you are complaining about, did you feel it last night?"

"Yeah, hadn't realized it, but I think I felt it all night long, was gone this morning. Does it mean I'm gonna die again or somethin?"

"No, that is an effect of the Quickening. It means there is another Immortal around." Sue answered nervously.

"So, I'm feelin you in my head?" Patrick asked.

"No." Sue said flatly. "We've got to get out of here. Now."

Returning to her own room, Sue grabbed the katana, and slipped it back into the pocket in the back of her coat. Stuffing the plastic bag containing her dirty clothes into her suitcase she zipped it up as well.

She then indicated the duffel bag and the suit case, while she herself reached for the Laptop and the back pack she thought would be aptly named the "Evidence Bag", considering the nature of its ever growing contents. "Can you get those two?" she asked Patrick, while collecting her cell phone and the keys off the dresser.

"Sure thing". Patrick answered, effortlessly lifting the two bags, one in each hand.

With a final sweep of her eyes around the room to make sure nothing was forgotten, they headed out the door, and to the stairs leading down to the car, Patrick in the lead.

It was as he stepped on the second stair down that his left shoe started to come off. When he moved his foot to place it on the third step, the shoe twisted, and Patrick started to lose his balance. Still clutching the bags out he swung his arms out and twisted in an odd parody of a ballet pirouette, then began to tumble backwards down the steps. About halfway down, his head bent at an odd angle, accompanied by a sharp "crack!", like someone breaking several pencils at once.

Landing at the foot of the stairs, his body laid still, his head at an impossible angle.

Sue headed down the stairs herself after him as fast as she could, but upon reaching him, she knew he was dead. She stood over his body, and couldn't even feel his Quickening.

She looked over at her car, and setting down the laptop and backpack, she moved to try and lift Patrick to drag him the short distance.

As she struggled to stand under his weight, she heard a soft, lightly accented female voice from over her left shoulder. "Hello Child".

Whirling her head around, she took in the sight of the woman behind her.

She was dressed in white. White pants, white shirt above them, and a long, white coat worn on top of it all.

Her dark hair flowed down over her shoulders, in shimmering waves.

"Let me help you with the other Young One. I am Cassandra. What is your name?"

Her heart pounding, Sue answered, "Sue."

Leaning over, Cassandra gently lifted Patrick's head and shoulders off the ground, supporting his head so as not to put any additional strain on his broken neck. "You have no reason to fear me, Sue. I have not come to harm you."

Putting her fears aside for a moment, Sue lifted Patrick's feet, and together, the two of them lugged him over to Sue's car, where she set him down and opened the back door, before they slid him in onto the rear seat, lifting his feet so they could close the door on him.

Suddenly Cassandra's hand shot out, capturing Sue's left wrist. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Sue. "You are an Observer? How can that be?"

Pulling her arm from Cassandra's grasp, she said, "It can't. I was a Watcher, but now I am one of the Watched. Or I will be, if I ever tell them, and they agree to let me go."

"Were you my Teacher's Watcher?" Cassandra asked.

"Teacher?"

"Long ago, I met him on the plains. I had been held a slave, for over a hundred years. Raped and tortured to death time and again by the Horsemen. Death was the worst. He seemed fixated on me somehow. Finally, one night I managed to escape. I fled into the plains, where I wandered for weeks, dying, and rising again to wander some more."

Sue listened, an image of Adam, or Death as Ed called him, floating to the surface of her mind, her memories of the happy grad student/researcher totally incompatible with the memories Ed had shown her, and even more so with the description she was hearing now from the woman before her.

"I was not going anywhere, you understand, just trying to escape from them. Anyway, one afternoon, I woke to see a rider coming towards me on a horse. As he neared, I suddenly felt him, as I had previously only felt The Four and my first thought was that it was Methos or Kronos, come to take me back. I turned and ran as fast as I could." Cassandra continued.

At the mention of the name Methos, Sue looked up again, another image of Adam flashing across her mind. He was the Methos Researcher. He couldn't actually be...

"He called out to me, in a voice I was unfamiliar with, but I still ran as fast as I could, panicked at the thought of returning to the hell of the Horsemen's camp. I was not watching where I was going, and I stepped in a hole of some sort. Twisted my ankle, and much like your friend there," Cassandra nodded at Patrick in the rear of the car behind them as they walked slowly back to the base of the stairs, and the accumulation of luggage lying on the ground beside them, "I fell and broke my neck."

Reaching the pile, Cassandra bent and lifted the suitcase and duffle bag Patrick had been carrying when he fell. She continued her story as she turned towards the car, leaving Sue to recover her own burdens, and follow her. "When I next revived, I was laying by a fire, wrapped in a blanket. Food was cooking nearby. There was a man, and from him I sensed the same power as I did from the Horsemen, but unlike them, he did not feel, I guess these days you would call it Evil. Back then there was not really a word I knew for the force of bad as opposed to good. In any case, he was different enough. But he was still a Man, and I a Woman, and so I knew I had to fear him. For the longest time, he just sat there across the fire, watching me. Finally he moved, and as he did I flinched a bit, fearing what I knew would come. Instead he handed me a stick, upon which was skewered a roasted fowl, and said 'Eat girl, you look like you are dying of starvation.' I was so shocked; I just sat there and did as he told me."

They had reached the car again, and Sue opened the trunk, allowing Cassandra to set the two bags she carried inside, before adding the Laptop and knapsack on top. "He then told me a story. He told of how he had been killed one day by an arrow shot by the hand of Death himself, yet Death could not hold him. He told of awakening amidst the ruin of his peoples, all slaughtered by the horsemen. He told of tracking the horsemen by foot, and finally chancing upon yet another man who Would Not Die. He then told me all he knew of Immortals in general, and finally, in a show of trust, he gave me the greatest gift I have ever received, either before or in the three thousand years since then, he told me how to kill them.

"He then offered to teach me the art of the sword. Despite my size, and gender, he thought I should be able to learn how to defend myself. We found a village, and he had the blacksmith craft a weapon for my size and strength, a thinner blade than was the usual back then, the sides fluted to further reduce their weight. I carried his blade for almost five hundred years before losing it in a battle. I cried the day I lost it, for it was the only physical remnant I had of my Teacher. I had thought him long dead, until I heard his call the other night."

"His call?" Sue asked, still not understanding.

"All this time, he has lived. My first true love, my oldest friend, the one I called Teacher. I never sought him out, for I thought him long dead in his quest to bring down the Horsemen. I had heard of how a great warrior, Immortal like they themselves had ridden into their camp, killed their followers, and scattered the remnants of their army before himself loosing his head to the one they called Death. The Horsemen broke up after that, Death just left, and without him, the other three fell to arguing, and eventually drifted apart. I had made it my quest to avenge my Teacher, to find Death and to kill him, thus closing the circle. But when I had the chance in Bordeaux a few years ago, I passed it up. Death himself had knelt at my knees, amongst the corpses of his three one time partners, one dead at his own hand, and I had wielded an ax, ready to cut off his head, but to my regret and dishonor, I stayed my hand." Cassandra leaned against the open trunk, her eyes haunted by the memories.

"Why? I mean, if after three thousand years, you finally had a chance to end it, why?"

"Because a man I love and trust, one who has shielded my honor in the past, he asked me to. And I granted him that boon, despite the pain it caused my soul. I laid down the ax, and I walked away, leaving Methos and Duncan in the lair of the Horsemen. I returned home, and wept for my Teacher all over again. I wept for my failure, both as his student, and as his vindicator."

Sue finally reached out, and closed the trunk. "Duncan MacLeod?" she asked.

Cassandra's eyes widened, "You know him Child? But of course. You were of the Observers, or Watchers. I had not learned their name in English, only in the French."

"I don't know him, but I know a friend of his. In fact, I know several friends of his." Sue explained.

"Perhaps I shall see him, while I am here. However, as I was saying, three days ago, I suddenly felt my Teacher. In my heart, my soul, and my mind. He was there, I knew right where he was, and then, he was gone. I could not believe it. After all these centuries, he still lived. It took me a while to find where to go, but I was drawn to Savannah. When I arrived, imagine my heartache when I found that he had died the day before. What I had felt had been his soul released at last from the bounds of life. While I was no longer shamed by my failure to seek vengeance for him against Methos, and the debt that man owes to me is one I have the power, and someday possibly even the will to forgive, but again the burden of avenging his death has been laid on me. And this time I saw the body. It truly was that of Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef, as I am the last Seer of the Trancatta."

"Eadgils?" Sue squeaked, her heart racing.

"I was right then. You did know him, Child." Cassandra continued. "There is more to my tale, however. Even as I sat searched in Savannah for clues to my Teacher's killer, I awoke yesterday morning and again I felt him in my soul. He still lived! But he could not, for he was dead, I had seen the body. I checked again, verified that the host I had seen was that of my teacher, before I followed my heart. It took me towards Atlanta, but I was compelled to stop in a town along the way. It was there that I so strongly felt the trace of his soul. It is a talent I have, I can touch a thing, and I can see images, or feel feelings, hear sounds, or remember memories if they are strongly enough associated with it. A room in a hotel in that town cried out with the memories, thoughts, and feelings of my one time Teacher, Lover, and Friend.

"But there was more. There was another trace there as well, a faint one. I followed again the trail of my Teacher, and it led me here, to this town, to this building, and finally to you. But I can tell from your Quickening, you, like your friend, are but an infant in the Game. You have yet to take a single head. So now that you know my story, I ask you, and ask you true, what can you tell me of my Teacher? Where has he gone, what has happened, and most importantly, WHO TOOK HIS HEAD?" The last few words Cassandra spoke had a force unlike anything Sue had experienced before in her life.

Up until then, the soft, spoken words of Cassandra had been soothing, almost mesmerizing. As she told her story, Sue could almost see the poor woman lost, starving, and frightened amongst the open plains of eastern Europe. She could feel the regard the woman held for her Teacher, and she could feel the pain and heartache the woman had suffered in the recent years. She somehow felt the longing compulsion which caused the woman to cross an ocean in search of a man she had not seen in three thousand years, and the renewed pain she had felt on finding him dead.

But with the last part, when Cassandra had asked her about Eadgils, her voice had subtly changed. No longer was it simply hypnotic, now it was compelling. Had Cassandra asked her to pull her blade and chop off Patrick's head, she had no doubt she would have done it. But that was not what the woman had asked of her. Instead of a simple task, she had asked the impossible. The geas thus laid on her soul was so painful, as a part of her strained with all it's might to form the words to tell Cassandra all that had happened, yet at the same time, another equally powerful part was fully aware she still had no idea what all had happened. She DID NOT KNOW where he had gone, or what had happened to him at present. She knew the mechanics of what Eadgils believed had happened. But Cassandra had not asked that, and surprisingly the part of her which struggled for independence from the part which wanted only to obey
Cassandra had no problem preventing the whole from bringing that up. So, she was left with only one part of the geas she could resolve, the last question laid before her. Entirely against her will, she opened her mouth, and a single word escaped, the pain it was causing her evident in her entire being. "Hhh-hunTERS!" she shouted at last, freeing herself from the strange spell.

Cassandra looked confused. "What sort of hunters? I don't understand, Child." Cassandra's voice was more normal sounding again, while still almost hypnotic in its cadence, it lacked the strength it had had previously.

Feeling like a weight was suddenly lifted from her soul, Sue shook her head, and glared at Cassandra. "What was that?" she asked.

"I'm sorry Child. I did not realize the use of the Voice would cause you such pain. You have a strong personality for one so young. I would be grateful if you could tell me what you know though. I must do what I can to help the soul of my teacher find peace. It stirs restlessly, and apparently is following you around. In my experience however, I have never seen a soul with so much strength after its passing. The traces he has left are almost like he still lives. Obviously he seeks vengeance against those who killed him, and he must think you can help him somehow. Were you the writer of his stories for your Watchers? Did you see his death?" This time the question was entirely without the compulsion it had had before.

Sue took a breath, and spoke. "I took an oath, on my eighteenth birthday, a year and a half ago. 'I am a Watcher. I take this oath to observe and record the lives of any Immortals I encounter. I will do so without interfering in their lives, nor allowing them to know of my presence. To this I swear and pledge my life, so help me God.' My very existence violates that oath now, Cassandra. I can not interfere. But I can tell you this much of Eadgils death. I was his Watcher. And I died my first death at his side. He died protecting me from rouge Watchers called Hunters. It was no Immortal who took his head. It was a mortal, and that mortal died, his very body laying atop the torso of the man he had killed. I know this because when I awoke, the sword was still in his hand. Eadgils's own sword. Any vengeance has likely been satisfied, as both the men involved are now dead."

"Two Mortals? And they killed both you and Eadgils?"

"They had guns. I shot one. Eadgils stabbed another. The one I shot had shot Eadgils dead, before I shot him. He also shot me, and then killed Eadgils before he died. There was one other, my supervisor, who had told them where to find Eadgils, who was really their target - they didn't know about me, heck, I didn't know about me at the time. The Watchers took him into custody the next day. I don't know if he has been tried yet, but when he is, and he will be, they will almost certainly find him guilty. The sentence for a Watcher who so breaks his oath so as to harm, let alone kill, an Immortal is simple, and consistent. Death. Vengeance will be served. You need not worry." Sue explained.

As a sudden gasp came from inside the car, Sue felt Patrick's Quickening spike back into her mind. Looking in the window, she saw Patrick suddenly sit up, rubbing his neck with his hand and look around the inside of the car.

Looking outside, he saw Sue, and he smiled, then he saw Cassandra standing a bit behind her, and he froze.

Opening the door, Sue said "Patrick, come on out and meet Cassandra."

As Patrick climbed out of the car, Cassandra introduced herself. "Greetings Youngling. I am Cassandra, Witch of Donan Woods, student of Eadgils of the Flornlef tribe. I mean you no harm."

Patrick stood to his full height, and proudly introduced himself in his lazy southern drawl. "Pleased ta meetcha Miss. I'm Patrick Wescott, student I guess of Sue." He added, reaching out his hand for a shake.

At that last, Cassandra raised an eyebrow and looked askance at Sue, while reaching out her hand to shake Patrick's.

As her hand touched his however, she gave a little jump, then just held his hand and looked closely into his face. "You have a cloud over you, Youngling. Someone has expended a great deal of energy to see that you come to harm. What do you know of this?"

Patrick looked bewildered, and said, "Nothing at all, Miss Cassandra. What kind of cloud?"

"Have you experienced an exceptional amount of bad luck lately?" Cassandra asked.

"Ya mean like getting killed on my Uncle's front lawn? For that matter, now that I thin 'bout it, loosin' my job, my wife, my house, 'an my life, all in 'bout six months?" he groused.

"Exactly like that. Someone has Cursed you. I will have to look into this. This is a misuse of the Power." Cassandra replied.

Then turning to Sue she simply said "Aren't you a little new to the Game to be taking on Students?"

Patrick piped in them, asking "Why, how long do ya gotta be Immortal before you can take on a Student?"

Cassandra replied with a wry smile, "I don't think there are any rules on the matter, but I do believe three days is a new record."

Patrick just gasped, and whirled around to look at Sue with shock, "Three days?"

========================== ==========================

Originally posted to Classic BC July 23, 2004

Breakfast with Cassandra, and the issuance of a challange for Sue.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Sue knew things were getting a bit out of hand, so she interrupted saying, "Let's go get breakfast, ok? I know I am hungry, and I'm rather sure Patrick is ready to eat, since he has literally died twice over since having lunch yesterday. Let's check out of here, and I'll treat everyone over at IHOP across the street there, ok?"

Sue drove around to the front of the hotel, while Cassandra and Patrick went to Cassandra's rental and drove across the street to the IHOP.

Sue parked her car, and headed into the lobby to check out. As she was standing in line, her cell phone started ringing inside her purse.

Pulling out the phone, Sue answered, "Hello?"

"Sue? It's Adam. How are you doing?"

"Hello Adam, I'm doing ok, physically. Not so well mentally, emotionally, with my Oath, or with my life in general. Why?"

"Well, I just got the notice that you have been suspended indefinitely from Watcher status. I just wanted to make sure there weren't any problems."

"Other than the two Immortals I will be having breakfast with, you mean?" she asked, "Hold on a moment, Adam. I need to check out."

Stepping up to the counter, she said to the attendant, "Sue Danning, rooms 2713 and 2714, checking out."

"Ok, Ms. Danning. You prepaid for both rooms cash, let me check the other one, ok. There are no movie or phone charges, so you're all set. Thank you for staying at the Days Inn, and please come back to visit us again soon."

"You're welcome." She told the clerk, then turning away lifted the phone back to her ear. "Adam?" she asked.

"Sue!", he complained, "Don't do that to me again! What is this about breakfast with Immortals?"

"I think its part of why I am on suspension. I told Joe I need to resign, but he wouldn't accept my resignation over the phone. Of course, at that time, I only had one Immortal in my entourage. Cassandra was apparently still following my trail like a hound after a fox at that time." Sue explained.

There was a long pause, so long Sue wondered if Adam had perhaps been disconnected, but she could still hear faint sounds on the other end once she closed the door of her car.

"How is she?" Adam finally asked, an odd tone to his voice.

"Who?" Sue asked, "Cassandra?"

"Yes."

"Upset about Eadgils, apparently. She said he was her Teacher." Sue answered.

"I didn't know that! In fact, I don't think there is any information in Cassandra's chronicles about any teachers, mentors, or other Immortals she had met during her formative years."

"What, no mention of Methos either?" Sue asked, more to see what Adam's reaction would be than anything else.

"No. The Methos chronicles only go back about three thousand years. Nothing of his time with the, I mean, No. Not anywhere is there a mention of Methos in Cassandra's chronicles. Why?" Adam answered, obviously flustered.

"Well, add it then. And I guess I can add to Ed's as well, he was killed by Methos for the first time as well." She put in.

"WHAT!" Adam squawked, his voice rising over the phone. "Where did you hear that? Methos never even MET Eadgils. At least not that I know of. I mean, I read through every chronical on every Old One we have, and no where is there a mention of Methos. How would you know who killed him, and how would you know it was Methos?" he asked.

"Cassandra told me." Sue answered. "I think I can find out more about Methos over french toast than anyone else knows at all."

"Sue, you can't trust Cassandra about Methos. She hates him." Adam cautioned. "In fact, you can't trust Cassandra about anything. Be careful, and watch your head."

"I'm trying to be careful. Trust me."

"Wait, you said TWO Immortals for breakfast, who is the other one, Cassandra's Student?" Adam asked.

"No, I think he's mine. I told you I wasn't doing so well with my Oath, didn't I?"

"I was right, then. Damn!" Adam said.

"Right about what?"

"Sue, tell me it wasn't you who broke Patrick Wescott out of the morgue last night at Baptist Memorial in Memphis."

"I won't to lie to you, Adam. That was me and Pat, the Necrophilic Terrorists, as I understand we were labeled by the news."

"And now he's your STUDENT?"

"Well, that's how he introduced himself to Cassandra this morning. Maybe I'll be lucky and they'll go off together, and I can get moving again on my way home to L.A." Sue replied.

"When I see you Sue, we are going to have to have a LONG talk. Ok?"

"Trust me Adam, we will. Oh we will." Sue replied with complete honesty.

She had driven across the street while talking to Adam, and was now parked outside the IHOP.

"Adam, I have to go now to eat breakfast with my Immortals and mangle my oath a bit more. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok Sue. Be careful." Adam replied, "And watch your head."

"Bye" Sue responded, shutting off the phone and dropping it back in her purse.

Getting out of her car, she walked into the restaurant, where she stood for a few moments, looking for Patrick and Cassandra. Finding them at a table by the front window, she made her way over to them, noticing that about a third of the way into the room she ran into Cassandra's Quickening, but she didn't feel Patrick's until she was two or three tables away, perhaps ten feet. Patrick and Cassandra had both tensed at the same time about one step before she felt Patrick in her own mind. That gave her a benchmark for her own Quickening. Stronger than Patrick's by a bit, but only a fraction of Cassandra's.

She sat down at the table, noticing as she did a nasty glare from a short haired woman sitting at the counter at the front. Looking at the woman's left wrist, Sue thought she saw a faint hint of light blue. Watcher. Probably the one who had been trailing Cassandra.

"Child, don't look at the Observateur, er, Watcher. They prefer to believe we don't know they are there." Cassandra said as she sat down.

"Sorry. She's probably mad at me because this is about as blatant a violation of my Oath as becoming a Hunter would be. How can I eat breakfast with you, without letting you know I am here." Sue asked.

"What's an Obsorvator or Watcher?" Patrick asked.

"Do not concern yourself with it for now, Youngling." Cassandra replied. She then turned to Sue and said, "We were talking of Teachers and Students though, before you asked us to retire here, were we not?"

"I suppose." Sue replied.

"So how is it one so young has come to claim a student?" Cassandra asked, while Patrick pretended to study the menu. "I spoke to Patrick about you while you were not here, and he seems to think he owes you his allegiance. He told me of your rescue last night, and I was impressed myself. I know of Immortals hundreds of years older than you who would not of even attempted such a task, let alone been able to accomplish it. It was a feet worthy of my old friend Amanda the way Patrick told it."

"I'm sure he exaggerated the situation somewhat." Sue deflected.

"I'm not so sure Sue. He spoke only truth to me as he told his tale. That leaves little room for exaggeration."

"Fine, so I can think on my feet." Sue replied.

"The question remains, however, are you skilled enough in the ways of our kind to teach this Youngling, Child."

"I'm not sure I even WANT a student right now, Cassandra, let's forget all about my ability to train one." As Sue said that, she saw a sudden stricken expression fly across Patrick's face, reminiscent of a puppy who has had its tail stepped on accidentally. Even though it was gone almost as fast as it appeared, it stabbed at Sue's heart, wakening a sympathetic memory of how she felt when she had lost her father three years ago. Seeing it, she continued on, "But I seem to have him, and I'll do the best I can for him. He can't be any worse off with me in L.A. than he would have been waking up on an Autopsy Table as the local Quincy started in on him with a Ginsu."

"Now that's not an image I needed before breakfast," Patrick chimed in with, his face however brightening again, "In fact, it's not an image I needed at all."

"That may be the case, Child. But even so, I somehow doubt you can handle yourself let alone protect a student if you need to. That is only one of the duties of the Teacher towards the Student."

"I can take care of myself," Sue responded defensively, "And if I have to, I can take care of Patrick as well. Maybe not as effectively as you, but if I had to, I'd fight to protect him. What more can you ask of me?"

"That you WIN." Cassandra replied. "It takes years of practice to use a blade. Do you even have a blade?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you. Are you planning on challenging me Cassandra?"

"No, Child. I have told you both, I mean you no harm. You have my word I will not act against either one of you. On this I pledge my life, my soul, and my honor. There is no stronger Oath I can give." Cassandra said, the last words having the feel of some sort of ritual to them.

"Fine," Sue replied, then coming to a decision, she shrugged off her coat. "Here, take my coat for a moment, would you? Careful, it's heavy", she said, handing the garment to Cassandra.

Cassandra took it in both hands, and seemed to go into a trance for a moment, before nodding her head and meeting Sue's eyes. "A Katana is an excellent blade for one of your size, strength, and build. A weapon for speed and flexibility, instead of brute strength. I approve, if you know how to use it. The Katana is also a weapon for a skilled hand, many of it's advantages having a tendency to turn back upon the inexperienced wielder."

"I don't honestly know," Sue replied. "The first time I tried it I almost hurt myself. I think I am better at it now, but I've never actually had to use it before. Sword fighting was more academic to me before, you know?"

"You continue to be honest my Child, both with me as well as yourself. That is a good trait. It will serve you well. But we will have to spar, that I may test your abilities, and you may learn your limits as well. Practice is one thing, but a fight to the death quite another."

"There are a couple of problems with that plan, Cassandra. First off is your watchdog. They don't know about me, and for now I want to keep it that way. All I need right now is a charge of being a Hunter leveled against me, or worse, being hunted down for being an Immortal who somehow infiltrated the Society. I don't know of that ever happening, but the penalty might still be death." Sue said, another image of Adam flashing before her mind.

"Sue, I must caution you of something." Cassandra said suddenly in a cold voice.

"What?"

"I can tell when someone lies to me. Even by omission, I can tell. It is one of my Gifts as a Seer. You spoke truly when you said you don't KNOW of it happening, but at the same time, you suspect it may have happened. Is there an Immortal involved with the Hunters?"

"I don't know. And even if I did, I can't tell you." Sue said. "As I mentioned oh, about a hundred times before, even talking to you is a violation of my Oath, and could bring me before a Tribunal. At least I am being open about it though, so they might not kill me for it. Regardless though, they will certainly kick me out. Joe already told me as much."

"Well perhaps it would be for the best to let them kill you. At least then you would have a chance to start over again without worrying about their reactions."

"Not a good idea," Sue said, reaching out and taking a sip of her water, "They spend too much time hanging around watching Immortals. The Society has one formal method of execution when dealing with Hunters. Always has as far as I know."

As a waitress started to make her way to their table, Cassandra asked, "What is it?"

"Decapitation." Sue replied, just before the waitress arrived.

"Good mornin'. I'm Sara, what can I get fer ya today?" the waitress said, stepping up to the table, and looking around at all three.

"Steak and eggs." Patrick responded eagerly. "Hash browns, and a large coke."

"Gotcha." The waitress said with a smile, before turning towards Cassandra and Sue, "And for the Ladies?"

Cassandra spoke next, "I'll have a Blueberry Waffle, please."

"Ok." The waitress said, jotting it down, "Anything to drink?" she asked.

"Just some more Coffee." Cassandra said, raising her almost empty cup.

"You got it." Sara said, before settling her eyes steadily on Sue, "And for you?"

"French toast please."

"And to drink?" Sara prompted.

"Water is fine, thank you." Sue replied.

"Ok, that's a Steak and Eggs, with Hash browns and a Coke, some more coffee in just a moment, and the Blueberry Waffles for you, and a French toast. Will there be anything else?"

No one spoke, and Sue shook her head, so Sara continued, "Ok, let me go get this in, and I'll be right back with some more coffee for you," she finished, smiling at Cassandra, then turned and walked back towards the front.

Patrick spoke up finally, "Who is it that's wantin' to decapitate ya'll, Sue, and why?"

Sue closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten in her mind, before opening them again, and continuing. "Damn. This is getting to be a bad habit."

Patrick looked at Cassandra for help, but she just shook her head, then interrupted, "Sue, let me. I have no Oath to burden me."

Patrick frowned, and turned more fully towards Cassandra. "I first learned of them over a thousand years ago from another Immortal. As for myself, the first I recall having seen was Neil MacGreggor, who tried to spy on me off and on in Glenfinnan, from around 1585 until the poor soul's death in 1635. But long before that, his nephew, Brian MacGreggor had taken up the torch. Indeed, since that day, back in 1585, there has always been someone watching me. Often, it's a MacGreggor, I seem to be a family project for them. Up at the bar, looking like she's not there, is Sally MacGreggor. I could trace her lineage all the way back to Neil and his wife Kathleen Harris. In fact, Sally takes quite a bit after Kathleen's sister Mary as I recall. They apparently call themselves 'Watchers', and see it as their purpose in life to record the lives and actions of Immortals."

"They Spy on us?" Patrick asked, "All the time?"

"Not all the time. Only in public, usually. They take an oath, one which basically says, that they'll observe and record the lives of Immortals, but without interfering with us or even letting us know they are there. They are not as good at that last part as they would like to think. Immortals survive by being paranoid. Paranoid people tend to notice when they are being followed. Some of us accept it, I do. They are harmless, and may be useful to history some day. Your, 'Teacher' has a special problem. She was one of them herself, until she woke up the other day as one of us." Cassandra explained.

"You were a Watcher? Some kind o Peepin' Tom?" Patrick asked, looking at Sue.

"It's why I know about Immortals. I've known about them almost all my life it seems. In fact, the first time I learned about them, I was only nine. I remember it like it was yesterday."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 1993, Griffith Park, California.

Nine year old Sue was enjoying the day at the park with her Dad and Uncle Mike.

She and her Dad had been planning on the picnic for a long time, and Uncle Mike had been invited, but had told her the day before he would have to work, so couldn't make it.

It had made her sad, but she understood her Dad and Uncle Mike, who wasn't really her Uncle, did something really important, even though they couldn't tell her what it was. She knew though. They were secret agents. Spies of some sort, like in the movies. She didn't know who they worked for, but she imagined it was the CIA. She knew they were spies because they were always sneaking around, and filing reports on the people they followed. She kept the secret because that was the secret part of being a secret agent, so she had never even told her best friend Barbara about what her Dad did. Barbara thought her Dad was a courier, which is a person who carries things from place to place, which is also sort of what a Spy does. It is what she knew was called a Cover Story.

That was why she was so surprised when Uncle Mike showed up at the picnic. She was happy he was there though.

But after a while, she spotted the Russians. They must be Russians, and Uncle Mike must have been following them when he came to the picnic, because he and her Dad kept watching them, and discussing things in soft whispers so she wouldn't hear. She wanted to tell them it was alright, that she knew, but that would be breaking cover. As long as she didn't do that, she was like a spy as well. It made her excited to be a part of her Dad's and Uncle Mike's secret lives.

The Russians were over a little ways off, having some sort of party themselves. Sue wasn't sure if all of them were spies, or only one or two. There seemed to be two which her Dad and Uncle Mike were watching more than the others though, so she was pretty sure they were the other spies.

One of them was tall, with lots of muscles. The other one was darker, his skin deeply tanned, but he had nice brown hair, and she wasn't sure, but she thought he had green eyes. It was hard to tell from so far away.

Those two were hanging out together, and after a while they decided to take a walk. Sue wasn't surprised when Uncle Mike said he had to go for a bit, but he might be back and started to follow them.

Sue decided what ever was happening was going to be really cool, and if she could follow Uncle Mike, she might get to see him capture the Russians, or maybe kill them, like in the movies.

She told her Dad she had to go to the bathroom, which wasn't a lie, she sort of did, but it could wait a bit, and she took off in the same direction Uncle Mike and the Russians had gone.

It didn't take her long to spot Uncle Mike, he was walking along a trail, and the two Russians were ahead of him.

She pretended Uncle Mike was an enemy spy, and kept him just in sight, the same way he was doing to the Russians. It was lots of fun.

They had been walking for quite a while, and had followed the trail to the top of the hill, when one of the Russians spotted something off the side of the trail, by the cliff. He walked off the trail, and over to the edge of the cliff and bent over. Suddenly, the dirt started sliding along the side of the cliff, and the part the Russian was standing on fell down, taking the Russian with it.

He tumbled down the side of the cliff, while his companion just stared after him, then looked quickly around.

Uncle Mike was crouched down behind some bushes, out of sight, and so was Sue, peeking over some rocks at both her Uncle and the remaining Russian. She wanted to run to the side of the cliff and look for the one who had fallen over, but she was afraid the remaining Russian would see her, and if he saw her, he would probably spot Uncle Mike, and he might kill him. Sue was actually afraid for the first time. Her little spy trip was suddenly dangerous.

Not seeing anyone around, the remaining Russian started to climb down the cliff. As soon as he was out of sight, Uncle Mike moved forward, looking for a new position to watch him from. As he moved, Sue also slipped out from behind her rock and shot across the trail, so she could see down the cliff side, trying to find a tree or bush to hide behind.

She spotted the body of the first Russian at the bottom of the cliff, his friend about a quarter of the way down, and slowly climbing over the loose earth, trying not to fall himself. Even though she had never seen a dead person before, she could tell by the angle of his head, and the way he was not moving, that the Russian at the bottom of the cliff had to be dead. There was also a lot of blood, but it wasn't still coming out. She thought that meant his heart was not beating any more.

"Sue!" a sudden cry came from Uncle Mike. She had not hidden herself from him, this time, only the Russians, she realized. "Where did you come from?"

"The Russian, he's dead, isn't he, Uncle Mike?" Sue asked instead of answering him.

"Russian?" Uncle Mike asked.

"Isn't that what they are? Russian spies?"

"Why in the world would you think that?" Uncle Mike asked, scratching his head.

"Because, I know all about you and Dad. I never told anyone, but I've known you were spies like forever."

"Spies?"

"You are always doing spy things, sneaking off, and filing reports. I figured it out a long time ago. I never told anyone though. Honest. Not even Barbara, or that snotty Sally-Anne."

The remaining Russian was about half way down the cliff, and Uncle Mike moved over to crouch next to Sue, where he found he had a better, and more concealed view of both the body at the bottom of the ravine, and the man heading down to help his friend.

"Suzie, we aren't Spies. Not in the James Bond kind of way at least."

"I know that silly. You and Dad don't have any of those neat gizmos. Those are just for TV and movies. I'm not stupid you know."

Uncle Mike chuckled, and rubbed the top of her head affectionately, "No Sue, I never thought you were stupid. You are one of the brightest kids I ever met. And if you followed me all the way up here, without anyone noticing, you may be even better at this than myself or your father. But what we do is still a secret. Go on back to your Dad. I'm sure he's worried about you by now. He didn't know you were following me, did he?"

"No, I told him I had to go to the bathroom. But the Russian, or whatever he is, he's dead. Shouldn't we get someone?" Sue asked again, looking at the figure which had almost reached the bottom of the cliff, and the still and unmoving body which awaited it.

"No pumpkin, it'll be all right. The man is just unconscious. He'll be fine in a few minutes."

"No he won't." Sue explained, since her Uncle obviously had missed it. "Look at his head. It's facing the wrong way. His neck is broken. And he isn't moving or bleeding, he's got to be dead."

Uncle Mike looked down, then looked back at her, a new respect and pride suddenly glowing in his eyes, he said "A natural observer as well. Ok, Pumpkin. Stay here a few more moments, and you'll see, He'll wake up and be just fine as soon as his friend gets to him."

Sue and Mike watched from the bushes as the other man reached the bottom of the cliff, and made his way over to the body of his friend. Sue knew he was dead, and the way he moved, entirely limp like a rag doll, when his friend rolled him over and straightened out his head and limbs, confirmed it for her. But she didn't say anything more, just waited like Uncle Mike told her, watching.

The other man walked around the base of the cliff, looking for something, probably whatever his friend had died trying to get. Finally, he bent over and picked up some sort of shiny rock. It was too far away to see what it was, but Sue thought it was just a Quartz Crystal. There were lots of them in this area, and it was a silly thing to die for, if that was what it was.

Suddenly though, the dead man jerked his whole body, then sat up.

Sue was amazed. She knew he had been dead. But somehow, he had gotten better. He still wasn't bleeding though.

"Uncle Mike, what is he. I know he was dead. Now, he looks like nothing ever happened, other than the blood and his clothes being all torn up." The first man had rising to his feet, and was rubbing his neck, and twisting his torso from left to right like trying to work out some kinks. "Is he a Robot or something? Like in Terminator?"

Laughing Uncle Mike said "No pumpkin, he's not a robot. He is just a very special man. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but if you promise to keep it a secret, and never tell anyone at all, I will try to explain."

At the bottom of the cliff, the second man had handed the first whatever it was he had picked up from the ground, then he had clapped the first man on the back, and pointed up the cliff to the trail. They had then started climbing slowly back up.

"I promise Uncle Mike, I never told anyone you and Dad were spies. I won't tell them your secret."

"There are people in this world Sue, who are actually thousands of years old. They look just like anyone else, but they are Immortal. If they are killed, they will heal and live again. Your father and I, and several others around the world, well it's our job to follow these special people. To record where they go, and what they do, so future generations will have a better grasp on history, and the people who shaped it. We can't let them know we are here though, so we have to act like spies, hiding in the bushes, taking pictures, things like that. Do you understand?"

Sue nodded. She was happy to finally know exactly what her Dad and Uncle Mike did. She had just one question though. "Can I help?" she asked.

Chuckling, Uncle Mike said, "I don't know, Pumpkin. I'll have to ask the Boss."

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Here in L.A., your Dad." Uncle Mike replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Anyhow, ever since I've known about Immortals I've helped keep an eye on them from time to time, there are places it is easier for a kid to blend in, and there were times there were more Immortals in town than actual Watchers." Sue finished.

"And now she is one herself, both a Watcher, and an Immortal." Cassandra added, " And the two are not supposed to mix. That's why little Miss Sally at the bar keeps shooting daggers from her eyes at Sue here. From Sally's point of view, Sue's breaking her Oath in more ways than she can count. Of course, she doesn't know about Sue's new status, right?"

"Yep. And I want to keep it that way until I can figure out what I'm going to do about it." Sue replied.

The waitress returned, bearing more coffee for Cassandra, and a large glass of soda for Patrick.

As the Waitress left, Cassandra continued, "Ok. I think you need a plan. From what Patrick told me, what he's wearing is literally all he has in this world, is that correct?"

"I bought him a knife. Not a sword, but for now it'll have to do. Otherwise, yep. I was thinking of taking him shopping this morning, get him enough to last the rest of the way to L.A., and regroup when we get there. Why?"

"You need to take your Youngling shopping, and I need to lose my tail. We need to meet up again somewhere so I can see how you handle a sword before I make my decision. Do you know of such a place around here?" Cassandra asked.

"No, I've never been to Memphis before, and what decision is it that you have to make?" Sue asked, feeling a bit put out by the elder Immortal's attitude.

"The decision on whether I can honorably leave you and your 'Student' on your own. Tell me, Child, what would you do if you found a pair of children huddling under a bridge in winter to escape the cold. Say a boy of eight and a girl of twelve?"

"I'd take them to the authorities, of course." Sue answered, not understanding.

"What if you were in a place without authorities, or rather, one who's authorities could care less the fates of some children?"

"That sounds horrible! What kind of place would that be?" Sue asked, exasperated.

"That was the majority of the world until about a hundred years ago, Child. Even here in your United States."

"Ok, assuming I was in such a circumstance, I'd try to find someone to take care of the poor children. Why?" Sue replied.

"And if the starving twelve year old girl stood defiantly between you and her little brother, and proudly told you that they could take care of themselves?"

Sue suddenly realized where this was going. "I'd still try to help, unless I really believed they could make it on their own. Ok, I understand. I'm not a twelve year old child though, and Patrick isn't eight, either."

"As far as Immortals go, both of you are still infants. Neither one of you has taken their first head, and among our kind, that is sort of a Rite Of Passage."

"Makes it kind of hard to get into the club though, doesn't it, if you have to kill another member just to join. Eventually there'll be no one left."

"Of course, Child. That is why we have our Final Rule, 'In the End, There Can Be Only One.', it's not just an observation, it is what we are. Even with the occasional new Immortal joining the Game from time to time, our numbers always dwindle. There are more new ones these days than ever before, and yet, the old ones grow ever fewer and fewer, the strong ones ever stronger, and thus the likelihood of any new Immortal living to see their fist century grows less and less. The Gathering must be coming, although I have sensed nothing, nor have I had any visions. But I know the balance is slowly tipping, soon the scales will overturn, and the Game will end."

"So you want to be sure I can protect both myself and Patrick before you're willing to leave us on our own." Sue replied.

"I want to be sure you can both protect yourself and your 'Student', as well as train him well enough that he has at least a chance of surviving, yes. It is as much my duty as it would be yours to help those hypothetical children under the bridge." Cassandra explained, as the waitress approached with three plates of food balanced in her arms.

"Ok, I've got a Blueberry Waffle," she said, setting the plate before Sue, "A French Toast," she said, setting that one in front of Cassandra, "And a Steak And Eggs, with Hash browns for the gentleman. Will there be anythin' else honey?" she asked, looking at Patrick with a smile.

"No, I'm fine." Patrick replied.

"Ok, I'll be back in a moment to check up on y'all, and ta freshen up your coffee." She said, looking at Sue and Cassandra in turn with a smile, before heading back to the front of the restaurant.

Sue exchanged first a smile, and then plates with Cassandra, and started in on her French Toast.

Patrick and Sue tore into their plates, downing their food swiftly, while Cassandra ate at a more measured, leisurely pace.

When Sue had finished, wiping the last bit of toast around the plate to sop up the last of the butter and syrup, then plopping the final bite into her mouth and swallowing with relish, she looked at Patrick, who was just polishing off the last bite of his hash browns, his steak already reduced to a gnawed looking bone, and his eggs vanished without a trace.

"Patrick, do you have any ideas where we could meet up, that wouldn't be in the public eye, would have enough space to spar in, where we would not likely be interrupted?"

"No idea. Perhaps some Gym, if it was after hours, but I don't know how you could get in. Sorry." Patrick replied.

Turning back to Cassandra, Sue said, "I'm sorry Cassandra. I don't know Memphis at all, heck, about the only thing I do know is Elvis used to live here in Graceland."

"He's living is France now," Cassandra said absently as she stared at the remnants of her waffle.

"What!" both Sue and Patrick exclaimed at the same time.

"Elvis Pressley. He's an Immortal. Lives in France these days, I thought you Watchers knew where all the Immortals were." Cassandra replied with a wry smile.

"As far as I know Elvis doesn't have a Chronicle. They must not have spotted him yet."

"Well he does keep a low profile these days, and with having lost the weight, put on some much needed muscle, and grown the beard, he does look pretty different. Moot point though, while he'd likely lend us a place to spar, I don't think he ever comes here anymore. Too many memories." Cassandra said seriously. "I could call him and ask though, I suppose. If nothing else, he may have some ideas."

Sue looked at Cassandra and asked, "You have Elvis Pressley's phone number?"

"Well, he is one of my Students," she replied, "And I do like to keep in touch."

"Now that is a story I'd love to hear." Sue replied, looking at Cassandra with a new respect.

"Still the biographer, heh? Well, it's not really mine to tell, I'd have to get Elvis's permission before I told you anything, and likely you'd have to promise not to pass it on."

"Don't bother. On second thought, I'd rather not know. I have enough complications in my life already." Sue replied. "I do have an idea though. Got a pen?"

Cassandra pulled a combination PDA/Cell phone out of her purse. "I have a computer. Will that work?"

"Does that thing have service here?" Sue asked nodding at Cassandra's phone.

"Yes. T-Mobile. Works all over the planet, so it should work in Memphis. You ought to get one, if you travel a lot." Cassandra explained with a smug look, "They were the first wireless service to work in Glenfinnan, or at least in Donan Woods."

"I already have a phone, thank you," Sue said, fishing her own out of her purse to show it. "Anyhow that was what I wanted to give you, the number. It's a US number, area code 478, then 411, 1975. Got it?"

"Got it." Cassandra answered.

"Ok, now I'll take Patrick shopping, and you can lose your tail, and find us some place to meet. Then we can see if you think I can fight well enough to be trusted to ourselves or not. If you say we can't, I'll take your word for it, because I honestly don't know if I will be any good against an Immortal or not." Sue finished outlining her plan.

"Ok. That should work. I will see if Elvis can give me any recommendations, and when I know the where, I'll call you. I can trust you to come?" Cassandra asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"You can trust me to come. I promise on what's left of my honor not to just run away." Sue answered honestly.

"Ok." Cassandra replied.

Sue motioned to get the waitress's attention, and when Sara came over, asked her for the check.

Collecting her coat, purse, and cell phone, Sue left a tip on the table, and proceeded to the cash register with Patrick in tow to pay the bill.

"So, are we going shopping?" Patrick asked.

At Sue's silent nod, he added "I hate shopping."

Stepping up to the register and handing the check and a twenty to the cashier, she replied without turning her head to look at him, "Me too."

========================== ==========================

Originally posted to Classic BC July 26, 2004

.Sue and Cassandra cross swords in a fight to the death to decide Sue's & Patrick's destiny.

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Sue drove Patrick to the same Wal-Mart she had visited the day before to obtain the supplies she used in Patrick's 'Breakout'.

Once inside, they pushed a cart over to the Men's section, and Sue let Patrick select several pairs of pants, along with matching shirts. Two packages of underwear, joined the growing pile in the cart as they headed over to the shoe section, where Sue had Patrick get two pairs of athletic shoes and several pairs of white tube socks.

They then headed up to the front, where Sue paid for it all.

Back outside, Sue drove to a nearby gas station, where she topped off her tank, while Patrick took the opportunity to hit the bathroom and switch into clean clothes that fit. Returning to the car, Sue had him stuff everything but the socks and coat into the "Evidence Bag", the dirty socks went into a zip lock tossed in the trunk, and the coat onto the back seat.

"So now what?" Patrick asked Sue.

"I guess we wait. I made Cassandra a promise. I will keep it. I think I need to make a phone call though."

Sue pulled out her phone, and once more called Joe's, thinking as she did that at the rate she was going, 550 minutes were not going to be enough, over an hour of the slightly more than 9 it comprised having already been used.

"Joe's Bar" came Mike's voice from the other end.

"Mike, it's Sue."

"Sue. Hold on." Mike said somewhat tersely.

Sue could hear some conversation in the background, but other than her name, she could not make anything out.

Finally she heard a click, and Joe's voice came through the phone. "Sue. What is it?"

"Joe, I just wanted to let you know, I had breakfast with Cassandra. She literally was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs at the hotel this morning. She knows about the Watchers."

"What do you mean she knows about the Watchers. You told her?" Joe asked, as Mike took an audible breath.

"No, she told Patrick. Pointed out her Watcher at the bar to him, and identified her as Sally Macgregor. Said that the Macgregor line has been keeping an eye on her for almost four hundred and twenty five years, ever since a Neil MacGreggor and his nephew, Brian. She also said Sally takes after Neil's wife's sister Mary. She called us Observaters, and told Patrick not to look at the Watchers, that they prefer to think Immortals don't know about them." Sue explained.

Mike just started laughing, and Joe was silent. Finally while Mike's laugh started to die down, Joe spoke up, "Sue. I just had a frantic call from Sally and her supervisor in Scotland. She said you pointed her out to Cassandra and the other Immortal, and now Cassandra has deliberately lost her. She was furious at you, and worried at the same time that you really are a Hunter, and had deliberately told Cassandra about her so that you could separate her from Cassandra to kill her. Her supervisor agreed. He asked me to send all available hands to Memphis to find you and Cassandra. He also called for a formal Tribunal on you."

"But, I didn't tell them. Joe, you have to believe me!" Sue said with a touch of panic in her voice.

"Sue, once again you have exonerated yourself by calling in. Even if you were a Hunter, there is no way you could have known Sally's name, let alone the history of Cassandra's Watchers, unless you had really studied her chronicles, and I know you've never even seen them. I checked on that this morning after talking to you." Joe replied.

"There will be a Tribunal though, Susie-q. I can't call it off at this point. But Mike and I will represent you before it. You shouldn't worry. If you find Cassandra, could you call us and let us know where she is. She may still be interested in you, you know. Did she say what she wanted?"

"Eadgils was her Teacher. She is looking for his ghost. She says it's following me seeking an agent for vengeance or something. She wasn't quite clear. She knew I was his Watcher somehow. But I told her I couldn't give her any information, other than that the two who attacked him were dead. I described his last fight as best I could for her. Since there weren't any other Immortals involved, I didn't think it would be any worse then just talking to her. I told her about the Hunters, and that the Watchers are hunting them, and that it is a capital offence to get involved with a Hunter cell. She seemed to accept that, and was a bit relieved. Then she said she had to call Elvis, who is one of her students by the way, and she left."

"ELVIS?" Joe asked incredulous.

"Elvis. I suppose Sally hasn't been doing a very good job of watching the witch if she missed that one, heh?" Sue added wryly.

"Not Sally, her mother. And she did note a student about twenty to twenty five years ago. It is possible. We lost him when he left Glenfinnan, and he hasn't surfaced since then. He was named John Burrows. We'll have to check into that. Thanks for the info Sue. If nothing else, new information for the Chronicles may help offset any perceived damage you have done. It can't hurt." Joe replied.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know I had met with her. I still have Patrick with me, Cassandra didn't take him. Could be the touched bird syndrome or something, I may be stuck with him," she said, turning to grin at Patrick, sitting silently in the passenger seat.

"Well, you know how I feel about that. I most certainly do not approve of a Watcher shepherding a new Immortal." Joe explained.

"Yeah, and now thanks to Cassandra, he knows that is what I was." Sue responded. "But in a way, it works out. Means I don't have to break my Oath to tell him the things he has to know, and you should know I won't tell him anything he doesn't have a reason to know about the Society itself. I may be mangling my oath worse than a squirrel in a wood chipper, but there are some lines I will not cross."

"Ouch. That's not a pretty image, Sue!" Mike called with a chuckle.

Joe on the other hand was more serious, "Sue. I would strongly advise you to separate yourself from him at your earliest convenience."

"I can't Joe. But there is something else you need to know. I told Adam, but he might not pass it on. When Patrick introduced himself to Cassandra, he named me as his Teacher."

"HE WHAT!" Joe bellowed.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Like it or not, until I can get to some Immortal I can trust with him, I'm stuck with him. Cassandra made an analogy at breakfast about starving children under a bridge, and its apt. I can't anymore leave Patrick to his own devices than I could abandon those hypothetical kids. I'm sorry, and if the Tribunal wants to kill me for it, then that is what they will have to do. That is how strongly I feel about this."

Silence stretched out on the other end of the call. Finally Joe spoke again, "Ok Sue. I'll make sure that all that is in the record. Thanks for calling, and I'll do what I can for you. I want you to know, I still care a great deal about what happens to you. If there is anything else, or if you find Cassandra, please call again. I'll talk to you later."

"The same goes for me, pumpkin," Mike put in. "I've got to run as well, but you know I'll be camped out here for the next while, so you can call if you need anything. Anytime. Take care."

"Bye" Sue said, the lines clicking off in her ear even as the word left her mouth.

Turning to Patrick, she said "Sounds like Cassandra has lost her tail at least."

Patrick spoke up for the first time, "Did ya have to tell them about Elvis?"

"Have to, no. But it won't hurt anything, they lost him after he left Glenfinnan about twenty years ago. They just didn't know it was Elvis. He had been using the name John something."

"Oh. Ok." Patrick said, then sat looking at his hands in his lap. Finally he spoke again, "Did ya'll really mean it? About the Tribunal I mean?"

"What about the Tribunal?" She asked.

"That ya'd let them kill ya 'afore ya'd abandon me?"

"I meant it. I may not be the best teacher, but I've always tried to finish what I started. And I do know enough to get you going. If Cassandra wants to take you on though, you probably should let her. She is literally thousands of years old. You don't live that long in the Game without some skills. And think of the Alumni Meetings, if Elvis is a member."

"I don't want Cassandra. I wouldn't mind letting her show me a few things, but I already HAVE a teacher. I told her the same thing before ya'll arrived this morning. No one has ever really put themselves on the line for me before. But last night you literally broke in to the county morgue ta break me out. Nothing made ya do it, ya just did. And ya did it for me. The Japanese say that if someone saves your life, your life is theirs. Well, I died. Literally. Whatcha did after that, is like saving my life. I owe ya'll so much I can't even begin to describe it. An' I've always paid my debts."

"Patrick, you don't owe me anything. What I did for you, I'd do for anyone who I knew was in your situation. I expect you'd do it too. It's nothing. Really."

"No, it's not nothing. I wouldn't of broken into a building and attacked some attendant to save a virtual stranger. I still don't understand why you did it, but the fact is, that I respect you. I feel like a little kid, I want to point at you and say, 'When I grow up, I want to be just like her'. I know it makes no sense, but that's how it is."

Sue's phone chose that moment to ring, the Caller ID displaying "Unknown Number".

Turning it on, Sue answered, "Sue here."

"Sue, it's Cassandra."

"Hi Cassandra. What's up, other than the fact you seem to have lost your Watcher and gotten me in a whole lot of trouble?"

"Trouble?"

"Sally called her Boss in Scotland, and told him I am planning on killing you. You'd darn well better not lose your head now, or mine is probably going to follow it, no matter what." Sue explained.

"Sorry. But you did say you wanted no witnesses, didn't you?"

"Yes. Did you come up with a place?"

"Yes, I spoke to Elvis, and he told me that he still owns a roller rink called 'Skate Place', on Orange Avenue. Can you find it, do you think? It is closed currently, the roof was leaking and the floor suffered water damage, Elvis is waiting for a business study to decide if he wants to close it for good, or if he wants to invest the money for a new floor."

"Sounds ok," Sue replied, before adding, "Oh, Cassandra, I hope I didn't do a bad thing, but when I was talking to Mike and Joe, I mentioned that Elvis was a student of yours. They said he must be the John you were teaching about twenty years ago, who they haven't seen since. I didn't say where he was now."

"Elvis thought they knew who and where he was all along. He mentioned to me today how impressed he is with the French Watchers, since he almost never sees them."

"He may see them, but they aren't seeing him. They don't even know he's there." Sue explained. "At least as far as I know. They may have him under observation, and may even have him identified as an Immortal, but they haven't linked him to you, and weren't even looking for Elvis Pressley, at least no more than they were for Bigfoot."

"Well, I'll let him know. I'm on my way to the rink now. I'll meet you there. Ok?"

"Will do. See you in a bit, Cassandra."

Hanging up the phone, Sue pulled out a map and tried to find Orange Ave. Finally locating a tiny street a bit off the 240, she started the car and headed out.

Skate Place was a vintage building, reminiscent of the fifties. The outside was in need of paint, and the empty parking lot screamed of neglect. Sue could see why in this semi industrial area sinking any more money into a skating rink could be a questionable decision. Pulling her car around the back, she spotted Cassandra's vehicle, and at the same time felt the trill of her Quickening.

She stopped her car and got out, walking to the open back door. "Cassandra?" she called to the darkened interior."

"In here" came the reply, echoing from the empty building.

Patrick at her heels, Sue stepped through the door and into the darkness. Pausing for a few moments to let her eyes adjust, she was able to make of faint shapes of tables, a railing, and a large open area in the middle of the building, with a vague shape standing just this side of it. The figure gestured, and said, "Patrick, if you could find the lights, Sue and I will get ready here; I think the wooden floor would be best. It seems to be fine over here, not warped like it is towards the center and on the left over there.

Sue squinted at the floor in the darkness, but she couldn't see enough to tell if Cassandra was right about the surface or not, but she took the elder Immortal at her word.

Patrick moved off to the left towards what looked like a control booth next to the rear door they had entered through.

Sue made her way through the tables and scattered chairs towards the railing around the center of the room.

She could hear Patrick banging around inside the booth, flipping switches and pushing buttons to no avail, as she reached the opening in the railing which surrounded the open center of rink floor it's self.

Suddenly the lights in the ceiling flickered and leapt to life, illuminating the eerily deserted interior.

"Yeah" came Patrick's triumphant cry.

Sue on the other hand was ready to meet with Cassandra.

"Rules?" she asked Cassandra simply, while reaching behind her head and loosening her Katana, but leaving it in the scabbard hidden in the back of her coat.

"How about anything goes, short of actually cutting off a head?" Cassandra asked, with a wicked grin.

"Never tried that before." Sue replied, "At least not in real life." She added, at Cassandra's sudden odd expression.

"Ah. That's what was wrong," Cassandra explained, "You didn't quite believe what you were saying at first. Remember, Child, I always hear a lie, even when it's to your self."

As Cassandra pulled a single ring rapier from beneath her coat, and took up a ready position. Sue stepped out onto the wooden floor of the rink.

"Anything, like I can kill you, as long as I don't follow through? Are you sure this is what you want to do, Cassandra? Not just some simple sparing to first touch, or first blood?"

"Actually, Child I am planning on making it to the death. It's the only way I can truly judge how you will fare in a true combat. You can do what you want. I will promise that as long as you refrain from trying to take my head, I will not take yours. However, as I said, other than that, anything goes. Feel free to use any dirty tricks you can think of. In most likelihood, I've already seen and beaten them all in my thirty five hundred years."

Sue nodded, then said. "Ok, do you want to attack, or defend?"

Cassandra smiled almost evilly, and took a step towards Sue. "I think I'll let you figure that out yourself, Child."

Even as Cassandra lunged towards her, Sue reached up and back again, this time pulling the Katana out in a smooth, practiced movement. As Cassandra's first blow stabbed in at her heart in a simple lunge, Sue's blade swept down in a continuation of the arc which freed it from it's scabbard, and blocked the blow in a single, smooth movement.

The blades clanged, and the combatants stepped apart for a moment. Sue shrugged out of her coat, letting it flump to the floor behind her, and kicked it away towards the edge of the rink. It was then that the Roller Rink's Sound System started to thump out the familiar Stomp-Stomp-Clap beat of Queen's "We Will Rock You". Both combatants dropped the tips of their swords for two beats, and turned to glare at Patrick in the control booth. He just shrugged his hands as the words to the song started

As the chorus started, they both looked at each other in chagrin, and resumed their combat. Sue took her first tentative swing, as Cassandra simply stepped back and shook her head, as the song continued: "...Buddy you're a young man, hard man, Shouting in the street gonna take on the world some day..."

Cassandra scored a hit on Sue's cheek, even as Queen sang "...You got blood on yo' face, You big disgrace, Wavin' your banner all over the place..."

Sue backed into a roll to escape Cassandra's attack, as the chorus rang out "...we will, we will rock you...". Sue stayed low, swinging from her position on the ground at Cassandra's feet.

Cassandra easily dodged the blade, and pivoted around gracefully, aiming a kick at the conveniently placed target of Sue's nose, to the accompaniment of the words "...You got Mud On Your Face...".

Sue dodged the kick from Cassandra, and rolled back to her feet, settling her balance as the music played on, "...Big disgrace, Somebody betta put you back into your place..."

Sue stepped in for another swing at Cassandra, but diverted the move to block a sudden thrust from Cassandra's rapier, to the accompaniment of the last chorus, "...We will we will rock ..."

As the audio cried out "...Alright!" and the music segued into the opening bars of "We are the Champions", Sue stepped forward again, double thrusting her sword, causing Cassandra to go on the defensive as voice of Freddie Mercury again began to sing, "I've paid my dues, Time after time, I've done my sentence, But committed no crime..."

Cassandra's rearmost foot reached the edge of the rink, where a lip followed the line of the railing along the floor, and she stopped backing up as the music continued; "...And bad mistakes, I've made a few..."

As the music built, to the accompaniment of the words "...And we mean to go on and on and on...", Cassandra once again took the initiative, and lunged back at Sue, causing her to shift her advance to a retreat, even as the song continued; "We are the champions my friends..."

Sue paused in her retreat, and apparently decided to hold a line drawn in her imagination, as Freddie's voice belted out the first chorus; "...We are the champions, We are the champions, No time for losers, 'Cause we are the champions, of the World..."

Sue changed tactics, and instead of simply responding to Cassandra's attacks, again started trying to initiate some of her own, shifting her weight to her right leg, and bringing the Katana down in a sweep from right to left, while simultaneously sweeping her left leg up off the floor in a scissors motion intended to trip Cassandra; "...I've taken my bows, And my curtain calls, You brought me fame and fortune, And everything that goes with it, I thank you all..."

Cassandra easily stepped back from Sue's assault with an odd expression on her face, and resumed her advance, closing the distance between the two combatants, as Sue continued to hold her imaginary line, and the song, went on; "... it's been no bed of roses, No pleasure cruise, I consider it a challenge before, The whole human race, And I ain't gonna lose..."

Suddenly, Sue surrendered her line, and dropped back several strides to the words; "...And we mean to go on and on and on and on..."

As the music built again, and the chorus resumed, Sue once again dropped to the floor and rolled.

The Queen song continued with the chorus, "...We are the champions..." as Sue fished the Bowie knife out of the scabbard under her shirt with her left hand, and came up swinging with both it, and her Katana in a two-handed style.

Cassandra adjusted her own style to one much more defensive, as she matched her single thin blade against the two much sturdier and heavier blades now wielded by Sue.

"We are the champions - my friends, And we'll keep on fighting, Till the end" the final chorus started up as Sue tossed the Bowie at Cassandra, and tossed her katana to her left hand, sweeping it up and around in a chop at Cassandra's right arm in a single move, before again dropping to the floor as the music wrapped up, "...We are the champions, We are the champions, No time for losers, 'Cause we are the champions..." Sue came up off the floor, her right hand flicking out with the stiletto, even as her left hand and the Katana swept Cassandra's rapier down towards her leg. The needle point of the stiletto buried it's self into Cassandra's chest, as the final strains of the music died away. Cassandra dropped towards the floor, as Sue pulled the blade back out, and wiped it casually off on the right leg of her jeans.

Silence descended on the building for a few moments, as tiny sparks twinkled from the little hole in Cassandra's chest.

The sound system started up again, this time with the opening strains of Bohemian Rhapsody. "Is this the real life, Is this just fantasy, Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality, Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, A little high, little low, Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me..."

Cassandra's body convulsed and her eyes opened, to lock on those of Sue standing over her, her Katana back in her right hand, casually slung over her shoulder. "Do I win?" Sue asked simply.

Cassandra nodded her head, and sat up as Queen played on in the background "...Mama, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all away..."

Sue retrieved her Bowie knife, sliding the Stiletto back into its holster as she bends over and transferring the Katana to her left hand. Standing, she slid the Bowie back under her shirt, and transferred the Katana back to her right.

Cassandra in the meantime stands up herself, and retrieves her Rapier from the floor where she dropped it as she died.

Bending over again, Sue collected her coat, and shrugged it on.

"...Too late, my time has come, Sends shivers down my spine, Body's aching all the time..." sang Queen.

Cassandra collected her own jacket, and placed the rapier into an upside down pocket, with a snap to hold the pommel against gravity before pulling it on.

As the music played on through the sound system, "...anyway the wind blows, I don't want to die..." Sue slipped her Katana back into the scabbard in her coat, and turned to walk towards the door.

"Patrick, go ahead and shut the power off. Lets hit the road." Sue called, walking towards the door, Cassandra following.

Patrick started banging around in the control booth again, apparently once more flipping switches and pushing buttons to no avail. The music continued, "...I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango, Thunderbolt and lightning - very very frightening me!" Suddenly, there was a brilliant blue flash from the control booth, as a fried bacon smell wafted through the Roller Rink and the lights and music finally went out while the crisped form of Patrick thunked noisily to the ground.

Cassandra stopped, and turned to Sue. "Does he do this often?" she asked.

"He seems to have acquired the habit lately." Sue replied with a dry grin.

"It could get annoying very fast." Cassandra said, stepping into the booth with Sue.

As they watched the smoke rising from his form, and the little lightning's of the Quickening healing the burns on his skin, Sue answered, "I'm sure it's a habit he'd rather break than keep."

Patrick's form shuddered and he sat up with a gasp, little flakes of ash settling to the floor from his hair. He looked back and forth between the two women standing before him and asked, "Did I die AGAIN?"

"Yep", Sue said, stifling a grin.

"I HATE this Immortal crap" Patrick said with the thickest drawl Sue had yet heard from him as he pulled himself to his feet with Cassandra's help.

Looking at him, Cassandra shook her head. "It's not Immortality that's doing it, Youngling. It is the Curse. It is trying to kill you."

"Looks like it's doin' a damn fine job, too." Patrick muttered as the three of them made their way back to the open door.

"Yep," Sue chimed it. "Must be frustrating the hell out of it when you keep getting better though."

"Curses don't work that way, but the agencies which fulfill them may be getting frustrated. Perhaps the vengeance on the placer will work itself. Magic has that tendency." Cassandra opined as they stepped out into the Memphis noon.

"So, Cassandra, I killed you. Does that mean I'm good enough to train Patrick?" Sue asked, stopping by her car.

"Good enough with the blade, yes. A Teacher, I am not yet sure. I would let you go, but there is one area you are not skilled in, which I am." Cassandra answered seriously.

"What is that?" Sue asked.

"It is no reflection on you, Child. This is an area which I started my own training in over thirty five hundred years ago, at the knee of my Guardian, our tribal Healer, Hijad. It was he who started me on the path of Seer. And it is those skills you will need to lift the curse upon your student. However, you are in the process of a journey to your home. I on the other hand am journeying away from my home, with no set destination. I can easily accompany you, for a few days at least. That way I will have a chance to help your Student with his Curse."

Sue looked at Patrick, then back at Cassandra. She thought back to the story Patrick had told her in the Arby's. She thought her life was a disaster, but by comparison, she was living the life of Riley. "Ok, Cassandra. You can come with us, but please, let's let your Watcher know where to find us. I don't want to be considered responsible if anything happens to you, and right now I would be."

"Very well. Would you like Sally's cell phone number?" Cassandra asked with a grin.

========================== ==========================

Originally posted to Classic BC July 29, 2004

.An "Old Friend" shows up, and someone looses their head - literally. The end of Act 1..

by Dana Short

========================== ==========================

Sue dialed the international number on her cell phone, while wondering what the toll charges would do to her four hundred and fifty remaining minutes.

The phone rang three times before a soft female voice answered with a somewhat aggravated "Wha eis it ye wan nao?"

"Sally?" Sue asked.

"Yea, Who's this?"

"You don't know me. Cassandra just gave me your number. This is Sue Danning."

There was silence for almost thirty seconds. Finally the voice on the other end said "Cassandra?"

"Yeah, you know, tall, dark hair, does strange mystical stuff and fights people on occasion with sharp and pointy pieces of metal. According to her, your family has been watching her for, oh, about eight hundred years."

"Wha? Ye dinna mean she's been knowin abou us the whole time?" Sally's voice responded incredulously.

"Well, I don't know about the whole time. She said the first, she called them 'Observators'," Sue started.

"Observateurs" Cassandra corrected.

"Sorry, Observateurs she knew of in Glenfinnan were Neil and Brian MacGreggor, back in fifteen eighty." Sue said.

"Fifteen eighty five." Cassandra said softly.

"Oh. Make that fifteen eighty five." Sue amended.

"Sue, is Cassandra there, with ye nao?" Sally asked, a note of concern coloring her voice.

"Yes. I told you, she's the one who gave me your number. Now do you want to know where to meet up with us, or not?" Sue asked, starting to tire of her own joke.

"I canna be meetin wi an n'mortal, dunna ye ken ye've broken yer oath, an now ye wan me ta break mine?" Sally answered in an angry burr which Sue could barely decipher.

Covering the mouthpiece she said to Patrick and Cassandra with a malicious grin, "I think she's mad about something." Uncovering the phone she said to Sally, "Ok then. I'll call Joe and tell him you didn't want to cover your subject any more and ask for a new Watcher to be assigned. Talk to you later."

"Wait!" came Sally's frantic voice from the other end. "I dinna say I dinna wan ta cover mai n'mortal, lass, I said I canna meet wi the lass. Twood be a violation o mae oath I canna make. Where are ye takin my n'mortal, please let me know so I can do my job."

"I'm heading to California. Apparently Cassandra is following me there, at least for now. We will be taking the 240 North to the 4 west, through the 70 and the 55 west to the 40 west, and as far as we can get today through Arkansas, and into Oklahoma, Considering the time, I expect we'll stop somewhere in or around Okalahoma City. Do you want to meet us somewhere specific, or do you want me to call you when we get where we are going?" Sue said, looking at the map.

"Arr. Call me when ye get where yer goin, I'll follow the same path an try an' find ye." Sally finally said.

"Ok. I'll call Joe and let him know as well, so he can call off the search around here. I'll talk to you later." Sue said and hung up before Sally could respond.

"You're mean." Patrick said, shaking his head and climbing into the passenger seat of the car.

"And you smell like burnt bacon" Sue responded, getting in her own door and shooting a glance at Cassandra. "You going to drive yourself, or do you want to dump your car and ride with us?"

Cassandra looked speculatively between the two cars, then seemed to come to a decision. "No."

"No?" Sue asked, not understanding Cassandra's answer.

"No. I'm not going to take your car. Nor am I going to take my car. I think we need something bigger. I don't like feeling cramped. You have Caravans, or RVs here, don't you? I'm sure I've seen them on the roads here."

Sue didn't understand the question. "Yes. Why?"

"Then that's what we'll take. I'll return my Rental, and we'll get an RV for the lot of us. More room to stretch out, no need to stop as often for the facilities or food, and more comfortable to ride in as well. I think you can tow your car behind it, so that won't be a problem either."

Sue was still not quite following the older Immortal's reasoning. "But, those things are expensive, and they drink gas like it was water!"

"Look, I'll pay for the RV, Sue. I've saved up more money than I know what to do with over the last few thousand years, and I can easily afford to buy a vehicle if I so chose. If you want, I'll even pay for the petrol so you can use it to finish your trip, compared to the cost of the vehicle, it's nothing, much like the cost of the RV won't even put a dent in my holdings."

"So, rather than ride in the back of the car with Patrick and me, you want to spend half a million dollars for a motor home?" Sue asked, incredulously.

"No, I doubt it will come to that, back home a full sized RV is only about forty to eighty thousand pounds, and somehow I don't think the exchange rate is as bad as all that."

"Can we get lunch before we argue about this?" Patrick asked, leaning out the open passenger door of Sue's car.

"It is lunchtime. It would give me a chance to get the funds moving. To transfer sixty thousand pounds will take more than a few minutes. I'll have to call Colin to get the ball rolling and locate a branch here where he can send the money for me to pick up. What to you want to eat, Patrick?" Cassandra asked.

"I don't care. Burger-Thing would be fine. I think we passed one back that-a-way after we got off the freeway."

"Ok. Patrick, you drive. I'll call Joe again. Let him know what's going on, and let HIM call Sally back and tell her we're not quite leaving town for Oklahoma like I had said we were." Sue agreed, moving around towards the passenger side of her car.

As Patrick got out of the car, she tossed the keys to him, but as he caught them, he said, "Uh, Sue, Cassandra?"

"What?" Sue asked, while at the same time Cassandra turned to him and said "Yes, Youngling?"

"I was just thinking, before you go to a restaurant, a bank, and a car dealership, you both might want to clean up and change. You both have blood on you, as well as various holes, cuts, and tears in your clothes."

"And you look slightly singed and still smell like burnt bacon." Sue retorted, looking at the vague reflection of her disheveled appearance in the car's window. "But you have a point. Cassandra, do you suppose you could open the door back up, and we could find a bathroom in there somewhere?" Sue finished, turning towards the trunk of her car.

"I believe so, Child. The Youngling had a good thought." Cassandra answered, opening the trunk of her own car and fishing out a small gym bag before returning to the Skate Place's rear door and again punching in the security code on the doorknob.

She held the door open for Sue, who carried a pair of blue jeans and a powder blue top in her arms, as she entered the building and vanished from sight, followed immediately by Cassandra.

As Patrick sat in the car, trying to comb his own hair back into place, the phone in Sue's purse rang.

Patrick sat there looking at it for a few moments, then coming to a decision, he reached out and answered it. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello? Anyone there?" he repeated.

"Yes. Sorry. Is Sue there, please?" a voice finally responded.

"I'm sorry, she's a bit busy at the moment." Patrick answered, looking at the closed door leading into the Roller Rink. "Could I take a message and have her call you back?"

"You're Patrick, correct?" the voice questioned.

"Yes. And you are?"

"Pierson. Adam Pierson. Is Sue all right? Last I heard she was going to meet with Cassandra."

"You are one of those Watching people?" Patrick asked.

"Sort of. I am a researcher for the Watchers, but more importantly, I am a friend of Sue's, and I am concerned about her and Cassandra. I just was worried about her."

"Oh, it's ok," Patrick said, "They fought a few minutes ago, and Sue killed her."

"She WHAT!" Adam bellowed so loudly that Patrick had to remove the phone from his ear.

"Cassandra didn't believe Sue could take care of herself or me. So they fought, so Cassandra could see if Sue was any good. She was treating Sue like a little kid. Keeps calling her Child. Anyhow, Sue and Cassandra fought, and Sue killed her. Cassandra seems happier now."

"Wait. I thought you said Sue killed Cassandra. You mean she just killed her, not KILLED her. Sue didn't take her head, right?"

"Of course not. They specifically said the fight was to the death, but no head taking."

"Wait, they both said it was to the death?"

"Yes. Both of them."

"Patrick, I need to know something, and it is important. You know how to sense an Immortal, right?"

"Yes. I know the feeling, like an itch in the back of your brain."

"An apt description. Has Sue died yet, I mean, when you are near her, does your brain itch, even if you are more than a few feet away?"

"Yes, of course it does. She's an Immortal. Not as strong as Cassandra, but still. Didn't you know that?" Patrick asked, suddenly worried he had done something wrong.

"I thought so, but wasn't sure. Has Sue or Cassandra explained to you how an Immortal can tell that an apparent mortal will become Immortal when they first die?"

"Sort of. Not in any detail, but Sue said that was why she knew she had to get me out of the Morgue. What has this to do with anything?"

"I knew Sue would be Immortal. But I couldn't tell anyone. And you can't tell anyone else she has finally become one, ESPECIALLY a Watcher. It could be very bad for Sue if they found out." Adam explained.

"But if you knew, than that means...", Patrick replied.

"Yes, and Sue doesn't know yet. And you can't tell her either. Where are you at, still in Memphis?"

"Yes." Patrick answered.

"Are you leaving again for L.A. or are you staying there another day?" Adam asked.

"I think we are picking up a Motor home for Cassandra, and heading on to Oklahoma by tonight, from what Sue said." Patrick replied.

"Does Cassandra own a Motor home? Or is she renting one or borrowing it?" Adam asked with confusion.

"No, after lunch Cassandra is planning on picking up some money from a bank, and buying one." Patrick answered.

"Good. I need you to do me one last favor, Patrick. I need you to write down my cell number, and call me when you get to the dealership. I probably won't answer, but leave me a message telling me where you are. Ok? This is very important."

"Ok. What's the number?"

"It's 206, 611, 4411, got that?" Adam asked.

Patrick wrote the number down on a scrap of paper from the floor, with a pen he filched from Sue's purse. "Got it."

"Ok, thanks. Remember, not a word to anyone. Not even Sue or Cassandra for now. It could mean Sue's life if this got out at the wrong time, or in the wrong way. It may already be too late, but I'll see what I can do. I have to go, I've got to make some calls and get moving as fast as possible. Bye."

"Ok." Patrick said, as the phone went dead.

Patrick had just put the pen and phone back in Sue's purse when the door to the Rink banged open again, Sue and Cassandra emerging one more into the light, both dressed in new, clean clothes and looking more than presentable.

"So, to Burger-Thing?" Sue asked, sliding into the passenger seat next to Patrick.

"Ok. I'll meet you there." Cassandra replied.

Starting the car, Patrick headed out around Skate Place, and made a left on to Orange, heading back towards Victor, which he took down to Kerr, where he made a right, heading towards the 240. As he recalled, the Burger-Thing was on the other side of the highway, by where they had exited the off-ramp earlier that day.

As he started the car moving, Sue dug her phone out of her purse, and once again called Seacouver, thinking to herself that she really should put the number on Speed Dial, all things considered.

"Joe's Bar" came Mike's voice after the third ring.

"Hey Mike. It's Sue. Is Joe around?"

"Hi there Sue! He's in the back. Let me get him for you."

Sue could hear Mike setting the phone down, and walking away from it. In the background, she could hear the jukebox playing softly and someone shuffling around, probably cleaning the bar and getting it ready to open.

There was a click, and Joe's voice spoke into her ear. "Sue?"

"Yeah, Joe. I just wanted to tell you. I found Cassandra. She's with me. Apparently we are going to get a motor home, and she will be joining us for a while. Something to do with Patrick and a curse. By the way, even though I'm not acting as a Watcher anymore, do you want me to start a chronicle for him, or will you have Sally do it?"

"Sue, you can't write a chronicle for Patrick, you know that. You shouldn't even be talking to him, let alone dragging him with you to Los Angeles. What's that about Sally?"

"Cassandra agreed to let me call Sally after we got back together. She gave me the number, and I told her where we were heading. I'm afraid I didn't know we would be shopping for a new motor home at the time, however, so she's probably on her way to Oklahoma City by now. She was mad enough when I called her to tell her where she could find us, I don't want to call her again, if I don't have to, not to mention her cell phone is a Scotland area code, making all calls really long distance."

"You called Sally? How did you get the number?"

"Cassandra had it. Don't ask me how or why. Anyhow, she said that Sally should join us as soon as possible and directly, if, and these are her exact words, 'if she wants to continue with me as an available assignment.' I think she has grown tired of just being spied on for all these years."

"Join you, how?" Joe asked.

"I would assume she meant become one of the party journeying to Los Angeles. She didn't really specify, but she did say she wanted to get a Motor Home so there would be enough room for everyone to ride comfortably."

"Let me get this straight. You're saying that Cassandra, the three thousand five hundred year old witch of Donan Wood wants her Watcher to ride along in a motor home with a new Immortal and yourself all the way to Los Angeles?"

"I don't know if she is planning on going all the way to Los Angeles, but yes. She has INVITED Sally to join us and come along." Sue answered.

Patrick had pulled into the driveway of the Burger-Thing before Joe answered. "Ok Susie-q, I should know better than to argue with a Danning. I'll make some calls. I know I got quite a lot of new information from talking to Duncan, and you seem to have turned up a surprising amount of new information yourself in the last few hours since meeting Cassandra. I will see if I can get permission for Sally to initiate direct contact with her subject, especially since you've made it abundantly clear that Cassandra knew all about us for quite a while. If I get the OK, I'll have Sally call you and find out exactly where to meet you. Ok?"

"Fine. I'll talk to you later Joe."

Shutting off the phone, she put it back in her purse, then she got out of the car and followed Patrick into the restaurant, noting as she did so that Cassandra was still talking to someone via the earpiece of her cell phone.

They had ordered and sat down with drinks in hand before Cassandra even came inside to stand at the counter.

It was some minutes later that she joined them at the table. "Ok, the money is being wired right now to a local bank, which conveniently is across the street from some place called Paxton Motor Coaches. They carry nothing but RVs and Busses. That branch was recommended apparently because someone knew they were so close. It helps to have such nice friends in the banking industry." She said with a sweet smile as she sat down.

Sue and Patrick's orders came up, so Patrick left to retrieve them, as Cassandra went on, "That was a good job you did of fighting. I was both surprised and impressed. You have obviously had some great teachers. I recognized several of the moves though. Tell me, were any of your teachers Immortals?"

Sue thought back, a sudden image of Adam, dressed in a white fencing costume frowning at her through the mask jumping to the front of her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 2002, Watcher Academy, Outside Paris, France...

Sue held the foil in her hand, looking at Adam as he frowned at her through his mask.

"Sue, this is important. Your life could some day very well depend on your ability with a rapier or sword. Think about your future career, swords are more than just an academic interest to those people."

"Adam, I think you are being a bit extreme. It's not like some Immortal is going to jump out of the woodwork and challenge me. I'm going to be a Watcher. I'm the one who will be hiding in the woodwork. And even if they did challenge me, what could I possibly do? I can't fight them, that would be a total violation of my oath."

"Sue, think a moment. There is nothing in your oath which says you can't defend yourself. Even the Code, which is no more than an interpretive projection of the oath and in no way really binding, doesn't say you can't fight to save your life, it just says that you should give your life before you risk taking the life of any Immortal. Now, that doesn't mean you can't kill them, they are Immortal. Kill them and they WILL get better eventually. Only that you shouldn't cut off their heads."

"So? You want me to use a sword. Isn't that kind of what you would use to cut off their heads?"

"Yes, and you could cut off your thumb with the knife you were using to slice up that steak with last night. Did you cut off your thumb? No. Because you know how to use a knife. If you are ever challenged by an Immortal, and the only way you can defend yourself is with a sword, you need to know how to use it. You need to know what to do, and what not to do, so that you can disable the Immortal and escape if need be, WITHOUT taking off their head by accident."

"Fine. That makes sense in such a twisted way that it almost has to be correct." Sue said, giving up on yet another argument with Adam. She should know by now that even her Father would have lost an argument with this man if he cared about the subject even in the slightest.

"Now, the reason you need to learn, and excel at Fencing, is that it is similar to actually fighting with a rapier. Most female Immortals use rapiers, because they are lighter, and easier to maneuver. Women are better suited to the style supported by a rapier as opposed to a heavy weapon, like a claymore, or a broadsword. Reminds me of a joke I once heard in a tavern, 'He's got a broadsword no broad could ever bear.' But the reality behind it was that women simply aren't as strong as men. Blades that a man can wield single handed will take two hands for a woman. But the rapier is a weapon of speed, delicacy, and accuracy, and believe it or not, women are generally better with all three of those things, jokes about women getting ready aside." Adam lectured, as he started yet another assault.

"But I don't really want to teach you fencing. I want to teach you fighting. These outfits are just so you won't get hurt." He said, smacking her again and again with his blade, despite her best efforts.

"They will help protect you while I drill some basic defensive moves into you, and show you some basic, and a handful of advanced moves as well."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"As far as I know, Cassandra, I never fought another Immortal before you today. Why do you ask?" Sue responded to Cassandra's question as Patrick sat down with the tray which bore two burgers and a chicken sandwich for him, and a chicken salad for her.

"As I said, several of the moves reminded me of some Immortals I knew. More than one. I just wondered, but I suppose that after enough time even rare moves will spread from place to place."

"I was taught at the Academy by the physical defense instructors, and by a friend of mine, Adam, who's a researcher." Sue began.

Patrick dropped his cheeseburger, almost knocking his soda over, as Sue continued, "He was probably the one who taught me whatever tricks you are referring to. I know he spent several weeks teaching me one or two 'Trick Moves'. He wanted to be sure I not only could defend myself if I was ever attacked by an Immortal, but had a chance to kill them and run away before they revived." Sue explained.

"That might explain it. What does Adam research?" Cassandra asked.

"Ancient Immortals, mostly. He specializes in Methos."

"Who is Methos?" asked Patrick with sudden interest.

"Methos is the oldest known Immortal. Some people, including Adam think he is over five thousand years old."

"Methos is Death." Cassandra hissed, her face going white as the blood drained from it. "Pray you never meet him, Youngling."

"What?" Sue asked, her heart skipping a beat. She knew Eadgils believed Adam to be Death, the same man who had killed him for the first time forty five hundred years ago. She wasn't so sure. He may of looked similar, but Adam was kind, generous, and thoughtful. Death had been cold, cruel, inhuman. But she also knew part of the reasoning behind Eadgils suspicion was that he thought Death was using the Watchers to hunt Immortals, especially the legendary Methos. Why would Adam want to hunt HIMSELF?

"Methos was the name of the man called Death. He was one of the four horsemen. Their real names were Methos, Kronos, Caspian, and Silas." Cassandra replied. "Kronos and Caspian are dead at the hand of Duncan MacLeod. Silas at the hand of Death himself, Methos. And I spared his life at the request of Duncan. I told you this when we first met this morning, Child. Don't you remember?"

"I remember, but you just called him Death, not Methos." Sue answered, her mind tumbling, trying to integrate this new information.

"And this friend of yours, this Adam, he researches Methos?" Patrick asked Sue.

"Yes." Sue answered distractedly.

"Then he should meet Cassandra. Imagine the questions she could answer." He said.

"Maybe they should." Sue said, thinking that would be one way to see if Adam was indeed Methos, or a Mortal as she still half believed.

Sue ate her salad in silence for a while, before asking Cassandra, "Were there any moves in particular that were familiar?"

"There was one. One I have not seen at all in thousands of years. But perhaps if Adam has researched Methos, that is where it came from. It was the one which you used your sword and your left foot to try and knock me down. If I was not watching your balance shift, and hadn't remembered that move from long ago, it may have caught me, as your extra knife eventually did."

"That was the Scissors, as Adam called it," Sue replied, thinking again of Paris...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 2003, Watcher Academy, Outside Paris, France...

Sue was again in the Academy gymnasium, facing Adam, foil in hand, and looking out through the mesh at his face behind its mask. She had just beat him, much to her own astonishment.

"You are doing much better. Which is good, since I hear you will be graduating in two weeks. I think it is time to start teaching you some of what I call trick moves. They won't always work, but if you get an opponent who does the same thing over and over again, they can succeed because they mislead. Some folks, usually those who have lost to them, call them dirty trick moves. Let's start with one of my favorites. I call it the Scissors. If you can get your opponent to focus mostly on your blade, and they are acting defensively, this move can work to literally knock them off their feet. At that point a swift swing, make that stab, and it's all over."

"Do I really need to learn 'dirty tricks'," Sue asked, "After all, it's not like I will be able to beat an Immortal anyhow."

"Sue, you are doing well enough after only two months that you could make one of the older Immortals at least work up a sweat. Trust me." He said, stepping far back and pulling off his mask to wipe actual sweat from his forehead, as if to demonstrate a point, before returning the mask to its place and stepping back into Sue's range.

"Ok, fine. Show me your Scissors move." She said in resignation.

"Ok, how it works is you keep their attention on your blade in your right hand, make sure their eyes are following the blade, and not your body. Shift your weight to your right leg as you bring the blade up in your right hand for a downward right-to-left swing. As you start the downswing, bring your left leg up, and to the right, so that you can catch their legs with the impact of your own at about the same instant as your blade hits theirs." He said, demonstrating the move in slow-motion.

Sue tried it as he showed her. By the end of the day, she had actually knocked him down more often than she had knocked herself down with it. While as he said it wouldn't work against an opponent who knew what to look for, or who was paying proper attention to her entire body, as he had taught her to always do with her own opponents, it would work for those too focused or stupid to be aware of anything other than her blade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I learned the knife trick from someone else, someone with a bit more experience." Sue finished, as she stabbed the last piece of lettuce on her plate with the plastic fork.

"You had good teachers." Cassandra said, "I have never seen someone enter the Game so well prepared."

"I'll be sure to let them know you said so," Sue replied, picturing Adam and Eadgils meeting in a dojo to discuss techniques.

Patrick had finished his sandwiches, and was sitting there watching Cassandra finish her own Chicken Sandwich.

"So, Cassandra, who is Duncan MacLeod? Sue won't tell me anything about specific Immortals, says it would be too close to a violation of her Oath. Is he one of those Headhunters I have heard about?"

"No, Youngling, Duncan is not a Headhunter. But if he were so inclined, perhaps only Connor MacLeod could stop him."

"Hey! Tell me about Duncan first. Then you can tell me about Connor. How many MacLeods are there?"

"Just the two. Duncan is the younger. I knew both MacLeods as children. Duncan and I met when he was twelve. But I actually knew of him long before. When I first moved to Glenfinnan, it was because I was drawn there by visions. Visions of a great evil, and a great hero who could defeat it. Duncan was that hero."

"What evil?" Patrick asked.

"A Demon. It goes by the name of Ahri," Cassandra started, but at that moment her phone started chirping from her purse. "Ah, excuse me," she interrupted herself, and pulled out the phone.

"Hello?" she answered it. After a short pause, she said "Ok, thank you. We'll head right over."

Returning the phone to her purse, she looked at Sue, and said, "That was my Banker. The funds have been transferred, and he urges me to go collect them before the branch manager leaves at two. Apparently the manager won't return, and I may have more difficulty accessing the funds with a lesser functionary, as I don't have an account with that bank, anyone else may be reluctant to release almost a hundred thousand dollars in cash to someone with just a foreign passport."

"Then let's get going," Sue replied, collecting both trays, and carrying them to the waste bin by the door.

Patrick and Cassandra followed her out into the afternoon sunshine.

This time, Cassandra took the lead, and with Sue and Patrick following, headed towards the outskirts of Memphis, and the Winchester office of the First Practical Bank of Memphis, about fifteen miles away. While in-route, Sue called Joe and told him where Paxton Motor Coaches was.

Once there, Sue and Patrick headed on over to the RV dealership, Paxton Motors, to start looking around while Cassandra went into the bank it's self to arrange for the funds.

Sue walked along the rows of motor homes, feeling a bit overwhelmed. There were at least as many models of RVs as there were cars at a regular Auto dealership. There were huge ones, small ones, ones who's sides popped out, ones who's tops opened up, and so on.

"Can I help you Miss?" Came a voice from over her shoulder, as she stepped up to peer into the interior of a particularly large Winnebago.

"Um, just looking for the moment." She replied, turning to look at the gentleman who stood behind her, melting in a full suit and tie under the afternoon Memphis sun.

"Well, what are you looking for? Perhaps I can help you find it. My name's Jack. Jack Summers."

"Hi Jack. Sue. And I suppose you can help us, if you can be a bit patient. We are actually here I believe to get a new RV of some sort. I have one friend running around here somewhere, and the second, who will actually be buying it, should be along shortly, she's at the bank across the street getting the funds."

"Ah. A joint project. Very well, have you ever had or used a Motor Home before? This one is an Itasca Sunflier, built by Winnebago. It features two separate slide-outs, one in front, which expands the lounge/galley, and a second one in the rear, which expands the bedroom, and moves out the wardrobe, giving the interior more space. How many people total are you planning on sleeping, do you know?"

"I don't know. There are three of us, possibly four. Mostly we are looking for transportation, I believe not sleeping accommodations though."

"Well, this particular model has three sleeping positions, each of which can accommodate up to two people. There's the main bedroom, of course, then there is the kitchen table, which folds down into a bed, and finally, the couch here opens up into a third bed as well."

"That's nice. I don't think the expandable parts will work well for us though while we are driving. I'm not positive, because this really isn't my show, but it seems to me what we would want is something which we can all be comfortable in while we drive to California. We'll probably continue to stay in hotels when we stop for the night, I would assume."

"Ok. What price range are you looking for?"

"What's the Entry Level?"

"Oh, we could probably set you up with an older 2003 Fiesta or Tioga for around sixty."

"That's all?"

"Yes, but those really are entry level. Only two sleeping areas, and one is the table, which is your second seating area as well. If you plan on spending a long time in it, you might really want to consider something larger."

At that moment, Patrick came rushing up the isle between the various parked RVs, looking concerned. When he spotted Sue, he suddenly looked a whole lot better. He headed over, with a glance over his shoulder.

"Sue! Is Cassandra here yet, perhaps in the office?"

"I don't think so," Sue said, looking across the street, and seeing Sue's car still at the bank. "Why?"

"SOMEONE is in the office." he said, with excessive stress on the word someone.

"Someone you know?"

"No, someone you might have kept an eye on. And I think they may have noticed me. I was hoping it was Cassandra."

"No luck." Sue said, casually reaching under her coat, and loosening the handle of her Katana, just in case.

"What's going on?" Jack asked, confused.

"Oh, Jack, this is Patrick, the friend I told you was wandering around."

"What's this about watching someone in the office," Jack asked, reaching up and casually running his left hand through his hair, and not necessarily accidentally exposing a faint blue tattoo on his wrist.

Sue's heart leapt in her throat for a moment, then she steadied herself. "I don't watch people any more. It would be too much of a conflict of interest."

"You know, I actually had a call a short time ago, about you and your party specifically. I hadn't realized it was you though. They didn't send any pictures, and you didn't give me your full name."

"Sue. Sue Danning," she said with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Sue. I may not agree with your choices, but Joe filled me in on some of the circumstances, and while the one I have is a waste of protein, I could understand how Hunters can mess with your choices, and from what I was told, things have sort of snowballed from there. I was told not to give you any information, but when they heard where you were heading to be as helpful as I could. That said, I think it may be wise if both your friends stay far away from our finance office, but I can't say why."

"Jack, please don't take this the wrong way, but Joe is more subtle than that!" Sue said, with an honest laugh, her tension suddenly draining away, to be replaced by a sudden chill, as she realized SOMEONE was going to have to go into the Finance Office to pay for the motor home, unless they went to a different dealership. "Um, Jack, not to blow your sale or anything, but is there a different dealership you could recommend?"

Jack looked relieved for a moment, then got a sad expression, and shook his head, "No, I'm afraid we are the only dealership here in Memphis. If you went on, passing through Oklahoma?" he asked, and at Sue's nod continued, "There's a dealership in Oklahoma City. That would be the only alternative I can recommend, unless you come in to sign everything yourself. Anything else, could be, well, it might have bad consequences."

"I understand." Sue said. "As soon as Cassandra gets here, we'll see what she wants to do."

Patrick's sudden tensing gave Sue the brief moment's warning she needed NOT to react when she felt the edge of a Quickening brush against her mind. Looking across the street, she was relieved to see Cassandra's car was gone. Leaning out the door over Patrick who was looking behind him now, she saw Cassandra's form walking their way amongst the other RVs. "Cassandra!" she called, waving from the doorway.

Cassandra let out a brief wave to acknowledge she had heard Sue, and continued their way, more swiftly now.

Stopping before Patrick, Sue and Jack, she looked at Patrick, and said softly, "What troubles you, Patrick?"

Patrick looked at Sue, and Sue looked at Jack, and said "Cassandra, I have a reason to think this may not be a healthy place to buy a RV from. There could be unwanted problems from some of the staff."

Cassandra looked at Sue and Patrick, then again at Jack, and nodded her head as if concluding something. She reached out and softly grasped Jack's left arm, and slowly turned his wrist over, exposing his Tattoo. "I am not surprised. I will not ask the identity of the one you Watch, Chronicler, I know of your oath, and would not make you break it."

A sudden tingling caused Patrick, Sue, Cassandra, and at their movement, even Jack to jump, and Patrick looked wildly around until he spotted a figure standing a bit away, watching them. "Um, it may be too late."

Jack looked out the door, and added, "Might be. Sorry."

"Oh well, in that case, let us conduct our business, then if there is any more business to be conducted, we can handle it while the paperwork is prepared." Cassandra said, loudly enough that the other party could hear her as well.

Jack shook his head, and said "I suppose so."

The other figure moved off again in the direction from which it had come, never having come into clear view, nor having said a word.

"So, it is the three of you, and possibly the fourth if the authorities grant permission from what I was told, is that right?"

"Yes."

"And price range?"

"Lower mid-range. I was thinking something like my Caravan at home. It's about 200 feet inside, about 30 feet long."

"Ok, we have several models in that general size. I was just telling Sue about the Fiesta and Tioga models, but those are more entry level units, A good '03 I could recommend would be a Fleetwood Bounder I have, 31 feet long, 12 feet high, and 8 1/2 feet wide. Sleeps seven, in four areas. It has a regular queen bed in the rear bedroom, then the couch and the kitchenette convert into doubles, and on this particular unit, there is a drop down bed over the driver and passenger seats, as well. Fully equipped, with microwave, television, surround sound audio system, even has a mobile video & data satellite system which hooks up through Direct TV, but service would be extra. It was a custom build, but the person who ordered it had to back out at the last minute, and forfeited the deposit. I could make you a good deal at eighty five. Want to see it?"

Cassandra nodded, and stepped aside. Jack exited the RV, Sue following him, and all four of them made their way deeper into the lot, until they stopped before a large, white and tan RV. Opening the side door, Jack motioned them all in, then followed them inside.

The interior was slightly cramped with all four of them standing in the lounge area. The inside walls were basically white with light wood grain fixtures and cabinets. The stove, oven, and microwave in the kitchen across from the door were white, as was the large refrigerator to the door's left.

Looking past the fridge, Sue could see a large bed in the room in the back. To the front, there was a couch, with a booth type table opposite it, and the driver's and passenger's seats, both of which were currently turned facing the interior. The passenger's seat was also reclined, with a footrest extended.

A television was mounted in the overhead compartment above the table, where it would be easily viewed from both the couch, and the recliner/passenger seat.

"Looks a lot better than the back seat of my Geo, I'll give you that Cassandra." Sue said.

"I'm glad you approve. After all, it will be yours, and registered in your name, Child." Cassandra answered, nodding.

"What?" Sue asked?

"Well, I can't very well ship it back home with me when I leave, besides I already have a Caravan at home. This will be my gift to you, an amends for doubting you earlier."

"I, I can't take this." Sue complained.

"Can, and will, unless you wish to offer me an insult." Cassandra said, suddenly looking stern.

"Uh, Ms. Danning?" Jack offered softly.

"Yes?" Sue said, still a bit upset by being forced to accept Cassandra's gift.

"Take it. I don't think it will get you in any more trouble than you are anyhow."

"Fine. Put it in my name." Sue said in exasperation.

"Very well. Now that that is settled, Sue, is your car front, or rear wheel drive, and is it an automatic or a stick shift?" Cassandra asked.

"What? Why do you ask? I can drive all of them, if that's what you are wondering." Sue answered.

"No, for the trailer." Cassandra explained.

"Front wheel, automatic." Sue answered.

"A Two wheel nose trailer would probably work well. We have those in stock even, so no delay waiting to get one shipped here. That way, assuming we can get Service to work right away on check-out and detailing, you can be out of here tomorrow."

"What?" Sue, Patrick, and Cassandra all said at once.

"I don't understand. I thought you knew you can't just pick out a motor home and drive it home. It's not like a car, there are a lot of complicated parts that make up a motor home. The orientation usually takes an hour or two to walk a new owner through the basics, like dumping and filling the tanks, hook ups, maintaining the generator, auxiliary batteries, how to run the air conditioners, changing the refrigerator from AC to DC or Gas, lighting pilots, filing the propane tank, setting up the beds, couches, and such. The list goes on and on. And some mistakes you can make can kill people." He said, then looking between Patrick and Cassandra, he amended, "Well could kill Sue at least."

Cassandra muttered something about all Patrick needed was more ways to get killed, but Sue couldn't quite make out what she said. Neither Patrick or Jack heard a thing.

"Well, is there any way we could accelerate it? Cassandra already has a motor home, so she should know most of that stuff, and I don't care as much about double checking that everything works as I do about getting moving again. If anything comes up, we can have it fixed later in L.A., if we can only get there." Sue said, looking at Jack imperatively.

"Let's start the paperwork, and I'll see what I can do. It may take 'till tomorrow to move it out of here. You know they have to move all the other vehicles in this row to get it out, don't you?"

"We do now." Patrick grumbled.

They filed out of the RV, and made their way into the office building. As they walked down the hall to the Finance Department, Sue felt the telltale tingle of the other Immortal shortly before they passed what she assumed was his office. As Patrick and she filed by, she noticed his eyes widen, and a sudden gleeful expression come over his face. An almost evil expression.

Cassandra and Jack talked to the Sales Manager, while she and Patrick were left to look over the office. Growing bored, Patrick turned and headed back to the lobby in the front of the office. Sue had to stay, however because they needed information from her, such as her driver's license, her birth date, her home address in Los Angeles, her insurance company, and other details like that.

Once she had finished, Cassandra had handed them a cashier's check from First Practical Bank, made out for eighty thousand dollars, and added another five thousand in cash. When the Sales Manager mentioned taxes, Cassandra said something about them covering any additional costs themselves, since she was paying cash, and something about her voice made both men agree without argument.

Sue and Cassandra headed back to the lobby to find Patrick, while Jack and his manager went about getting the RV moved and prepped for immediate release. Sue made a mental note to bring Cassandra along if she ever faced an important negotiation in the future.

In the Lobby, they found Patrick staring at a water cooler with a hurt expression, a paper cup in his hand, and a puddle of water at his feet, along with the circular bottom of the paper cup.

Before they could say anything, a cold voice spoke from the hallway behind them, "I believe it is time for our, business."

Cassandra turned, and looked at him. "And you are?"

"I am Douglas Walters, and there can be only one, me. I challenge you" He said, looking Cassandra over with vague interest.

"I really doubt it." Cassandra said, sounding bored, "Here, in the lobby? Isn't that a bit, public?"

"No, bitch. Don't be stupid, you're not a blonde, don't act like one. In the maintenance yard, behind the building. Now."

He led the way for the three other Immortals back outside the building, and behind a fence to a somewhat open asphalt area, closing the gate behind himself.

"I will kill you first, then your two students. I'll have you know I've already taken six other heads before. Three more should be a snap." He said looking at Cassandra, and pulling a roman short sword out from under his sports coat, which he hung carefully on the fence, right over the "No Smoking" sign.

Cassandra frowned, and pulled out her own rapier, handing her coat and purse to Sue. "Try to keep it clear of the fireworks, please. I have quite a bit of cash in there still, and would hate to see it burnt."

"Ok", Sue said, then froze, as she suddenly felt the touch of ANOTHER Quickening.

Douglas looked around, and said, "What is this, a Gathering?"

Cassandra looked around as well, then turned to Sue. "Do you know anyone else who should be here?"

"No. Not that I'm expecting, other than Sally, and somehow I really doubt she brought an Immortal with her." Sue replied.

The gate creaked open, and Adam was revealed standing in the opening. "Sue?" he asked, peeking his head around and taking in the scene.

Sue turned at the familiar voice and said "Adam?"

Cassandra went white upon seeing Adam, the blood draining from her face and her sword tip dropping to the ground, but her eyes narrowed in what appeared rage, as she whispered one word, "Death."

Patrick went white as well, looking back and forth between the new arrival and the two women, and just repeated them, "Adam, death?"

Adam looked at Cassandra and said flatly, "Hello Cassandra."

"Methos." Cassandra said, her voice now devoid of all emotion, but the color coming back into her face, and her rapier lifting back up into a more usable position. "What are you doing here?"

"Methos?" asked Douglas.

"Methos." Said the still pale Patrick, edging away for a moment towards Douglas, then apparently rethinking his actions, and instead standing where is was.

"Checking up on Sue." Adam said. "What are you up to, and I don't mean in general, we can get to that later, I mean right now, here?"

"Meeting this fool's challenge", Cassandra said, motioning at Douglas with her rapier.

"You challenged Cassandra?" Methos asked Douglas.

"I challenged her, and her two students." Douglas said.

"We're not her students." Patrick said, trying to correct Douglas for some reason, "I'm Sue's Student."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter, soon you'll be dead." Douglas said, returning his attention to Adam and raising his Gladius, "Unless you are planning to interfere in my challenges"

"Oh, I won't interfere in your challenge, you can kill yourself however you chose, but I do have to warn you, if you should somehow win, your head will roll right after my Student's. You'll never get near the Younglings." Adam said, looking at Douglas meaningfully.

"I'm NOT your student." Cassandra hissed at Adam.

"If you don't want to claim me, that is your choice, Cassandra. We can talk about it later, after you take care of this idiot."

"Fine. I'll kill the bitch, then I'll kill you, then I'll kill your students." Douglas said.

"We're not his students" Sue said.

"Whatever!" Douglas shouted, finally losing his temper and charging at Cassandra. "I don't care who's students you are," he said swinging wildly, Cassandra merely stepping to his left and out of range of his first attempt, "I will kill you all." He said, swinging again at Cassandra, and again missing as she stepped to her right this time, "And there can be only one!" he said, taking a third swing at Cassandra, which she again avoided, this time by taking a step backwards.

"Well, it won't be you," Cassandra said, bringing her sword around in a single swipe, and slicing neatly through Douglas's neck.

As Douglas collapsed, and the energy of the Quickening started leaking out of the body, Patrick stared in awe.

Bolts of blue white energy shot out of Douglas's body and into the ground, into the fence, into the lights, and mostly into Cassandra. Lights exploded, glass rained down, and the gate opened as Sally stuck her head in to see what was happening.

Sally watched as powerful currents arced from the headless body on the ground into Cassandra. She watched other bolts arc into the wooden slats woven through the wire mesh of the fence, setting them and the jacket hanging off them on fire, and into the light pole with its bulb which overhung the small enclosed space. Raining down glass on Patrick who stood beneath it. Finally, she watched as a final bolt shot out and hit the base of the light pole, and it toppled, crushing Patrick beneath it as it fell.

Looking around at the devastation, she simply said, "Ach, an I missed the fight!"

Adam moved to help Sue pull Patrick's dead body from under the collapsed pole, while Cassandra collected Douglas's pitiful sword and carried it back towards Adam and Sue, a blade now in each hand. Seeing Sally however, she hissed at him, "We will deal with this later," and walked on past Sally and out of the yard, leaving the fire to burn behind her.

Sue and Adam pulled Patrick out from under the wreckage, and managed to carry him through the gate, which Sally continued to hold open for them.

Once through the gate, Adam looked around, and said, "Let me carry him."

Sue set down Patrick's feet, and Adam draped Patrick's right arm over his shoulder and supported him as though he was drunk, dragging him through the lot towards where the cars were parked, Sue and Sally following along behind.

"Sue, go open your car, and we'll put him in the back seat, 'till he revives."

Sally looked at Adam, and said, "You know he is Immortal. Don't you see this as a violation of your Oath?"

"I don't see how," Adam replied, "The oath said I would not interfere with their lives. It didn't say I couldn't interact or even help on occasion."

"It also said ye would nae let them ken yer existence."

"No, it said that I would observe and record without interfering or letting them know I was there, if you want to be specific. Since I obviously can't be invisible, that is impossible, therefore it doesn't count. But the letter is not the important part of the oath, it is the intent behind it. Watchers should watch, and record. Not participate. That was the intent. Remember, three thousand years ago when the oath was first formulated, it wasn't even in English or French, neither language existed. I have read and retranslated the actual oath, sworn by the first Watchers, and supposedly handed down to their successors. It was quite a bit longer than the three liner used by the Society today. Roughly translated, it would go more like this: 'I am a Watcher. I swear to observe and record the interactions between Immortals without judgment, and without taking any action or providing any information which could alter the outcomes of their battles. To this I swear my life.' Granted, that's how I translated it, but the key difference is that the original oath is FOLLOWABLE, the current one is more LAUGHABLE. How many Immortals do you think have no idea we are out there? They're a paranoid lot, do you really think they wouldn't notice someone actually spying on them? Read the chronicles, and look specifically for Immortals who have confronted their Watchers, telling them to back off, or interrogating them. Look at the Watchers who have disappeared, supposedly killed by their subjects when they were discovered."

"But," Sally said, "That means that they all know?"

"No. I bet the idiot Cassandra just dealt with had no clue. But I'm equally sure Cassandra has told all her students, and probably this one here as well." Adam said, laying Patrick down in the back seat of Sue's car.

"And what makes you such an expert in ancient Watchers?" Sally challenged.

"I don't believe I introduced myself," Adam said, "Adam Pierson, researcher, historian, and linguist, currently assigned to the Methos project."

"Methos?" Sally asked, "Is he real?"

"I just heard Elvis is alive, so why not Methos. Cassandra is over thirty five hundred years old, Sue's Immortal was almost four thousand, so that means he could still be around. Plus, from what Sue said, Cassandra and Duncan, who I know personally, apparently ran into him in Bordeaux a few years ago."

As they turned back towards the Office building, the propane tank behind the burning fence finally exploded, throwing a huge fireball into the late afternoon Memphis sky.

========================== ==========================

Sue and the gang hit the road. It should be a fun trip - an Immortal pretending to be a Senior Watcher Researcher, an ex-Watcher pretending not to be an Immortal, who has been essentially possessed by the spirit of her Immortal subject, an active Watcher, and the only true Mortal of the bunch, who must not learn the truth about other two, as well as two known Immortals, one a three thousand plus year old witch, ant the other the newest Immortal, who is followed by a homicidal curse. All together in a single vehicle. Let's party!

Act II
Road Trip

Chapter Sixteen
Five For The Road
by Dana Short

Cassandra stalked the dealership, a bloody blade in each hand, and her heart, soul, and mind in total turmoil.

Death was here. Again, after all this time, she had to once more face her tormenter and original killer.

And he dared to call her his Student? What had he ever taught her other than pain, suffering, and terror? For almost a century after he first killed her he had held her as his personal slave. He had raped her repeatedly. He had deliberately punished her, and on occasion even killed her. From the time of her First Death to that night almost a hundred years later when she killed Kronos and fled almost naked into the darkness, he was the bane of her existence. Throughout that time she would have eagerly welcomed losing her head, if only to end it.

But worse, through the millennia since, he had not let her alone. Every night, she had faced him in her dreams it seemed. Again she would find herself being raped, or tortured, or simply forced to serve him. An endless torture spawned by the demons of her own soul she had never been able to put to rest.

She was painfully aware that he had saved her head not once, but twice in recent times. She had tried to kill Kronos in Seacouver, and failed. She had expected to die, instead she had awoken in the river, thanks to Methos. Then, when she had been captured by the reformed Horsemen, he had talked to her of Stockholm syndrome, and killed Silas, his own brother, to save her.

At the end of that nightmare, when she stood over his form, with an axe in her hands, ready at last to take his head and set her demons to rest, she had instead spared him at Duncan's request. She had managed to avoid the bastard for thousands of years, and had decided that the world was large enough that she would be able to avoid him for thousands more if need be. Now, however she had to face him again in person. She was so frustrated she wanted to scream. As if to give vent to her frustrations, a huge fireball suddenly erupted from behind her, making her pause in her aimless wandering, and focusing her mind back on the present, away from her tortured past.

She turned towards the parking lot, and her car, realizing that if nothing else, she needed to put away the swords somewhere.

As she approached the cars, she spotted Sue, still with her coat and purse, standing next to the Geo.

"Sue, can I have my coat back, please?" she asked, offering the Gladius in exchange.

"Sure," Sue said, handing over the coat and taking the short heavy roman blade instead.

"What should I do with this?" she asked.

"Put it in your trunk for now." Cassandra said, "You can give it to the Youngling later. He needs some sort of blade, and that will do for now."

Sue hefted the short blade experimentally. "It's all wrong for him, the balance is even off on this one. But you are right in that any sword is better than no sword at all, if you need one."

She turned to her trunk, and had just deposited the sword when Jack came running up. "Here you are," he said, looking at Cassandra and Sue. "Did Douglas get Patrick?" he asked, noticing his absence.

"No, Patrick's ok, more or less," Sue answered, gesturing to the form in the back seat of the Geo, "He's just a little dead at the moment - a pole fell on him."

"Yes," Adam piped up from where he was standing over by Sally, "One could call it a crushing blow to his ego."

"Very Funny, Adam."

Adam looked Jack up and down, then nodded, and walked over, a hand extended. "Adam Pierson, Researcher. Joe said to check in with you, that you were the Senior Watcher on station here in Memphis."

Jack glanced over at Cassandra, who was glaring at Adam, before accepting the hand and offering a firm handshake. "Do you think such introductions are appropriate, considering our present company?"

Adam looked around, and shrugged. "I see two Watchers, one ex-Watcher who has known me for a few years, one Immortal who from what I understand has known about Watchers for at least several generations, and a dead Immortal, who probably knows about Watchers, if not from his 'Teacher'," he said with a nod at Sue, "then from Cassandra here. And if he doesn't know yet, he will likely find out, because I don't see how he can share a motor home with us for any time at all without finding out what is going on."

"So, if Cassandra is ok, and Patrick was killed by a pole, I suppose that explosion back there was my assignment?"

Sally spoke up for the first time, "Sally MacGreggor, Cassandra's apparently inept shadow," she said, offering her own hand.

"Inept?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"My 'Assignment' who wasn't supposed ta ken mae existence, had mae cell number. It dinna get nae worse than that." She replied, her accent thickening as she turned red in the face.

"How could she have your cell number" Jack asked.

"Most likely she looked it up in a directory at some point," Adam offered,

"I soppose." Sally answered, "As for wha passed in yon yard, I caught but the tail end o' the show, but mae n'mortal hacked thae head off thae other one. Then the lights came, an ya can figure the rest."

"Then I suppose that makes me without an assignment for the moment. Not that I mind, I hated the bastard."

"Don't say things like that too loud. Hunters may try to recruit you." Sue cautioned from where she stood beside the rear door to the Geo, watching as Patrick suddenly gasped and bolted upright, hitting his head with a loud 'Thwamp' on the roof of the car, and fell back down again.

"Is he dead again?" Cassandra asked, looking over.

"No, I think this time he's just in a coma. Either way, he'll get better." Sue said, stepping away from the car, and looking at Adam.

"Adam, why are you here, and did I hear what I thought I heard a moment ago, when you invited yourself aboard the Motor home?"

Cassandra's glare darkened, as Adam replied, "Well, I didn't fly from Savannah to Chicago and back out here to Memphis just to watch Cassandra take some scumbag's head, although that was a surprisingly welcome sight, considering the alternatives. I came out here for a couple of reasons, one to check on you, Joe, Mike, and I have been worried ever since the Hunters killed Eadgils. Also, I was hoping to interview Cassandra here for some information on Methos."

Cassandra snorted at that point, then suddenly her expression broke up into almost hysterical laughter. Over and over she started muttering "Interview me about Methos?"

Everyone just stood around looking at Cassandra, until she regained her composure. "Let me get this straight, YOU want to interview ME about Methos? YOU want ME to tell YOU about how he rode as Death, with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? ME?" She broke up laughing again.

"Apparently she has had a very stressful day. I'll have to plan on putting off any interviews for at least a while." Adam explained, looking at Jack and Sally.

Sue was now glaring at Adam, and simply told him, "Adam, we are going to have a LONG talk in the very near future."

Adam looked at her and smiled his most disarming smile as he said, "Of course we will. I'm sure you have more questions about Methos than you ever have before. And I promise to answer them all as honestly as possible."

Suddenly Patrick woke up again, this time sitting up without hitting his head, and he looked around. When he spotted Adam, he said "eep!", and wiggled across the car to exit on the Passenger's side, putting the vehicle between himself and everyone else.

Adam looked around, and came to a decision. "Jack, how far from being ready is the RV, did they manage to get one selected, purchased, or had they just arrived and been sandbagged by the idiot?"

Jack looked over at Adam, ignoring the laughing and cowering Immortals both, then answered, "They picked one out, argued about putting it in Sue's name, and paid for it. I was over with Phil and Marty playing musical parking spots with it, we had just gotten it out of the row, and were about to prep it ourselves when the Propane Tank decided to blow up. Probably both Phil and Marty are busy dealing with that for the moment, why?"

"We need to get this show literally on the road, and before more people come to join the party. Do you remember last night's Morgue incident?" Adam explained

"Yeah, why?"

"That was Sue and her so called 'Student', having a little fun." Adam said.

"The Necrophilic Terrorists?"

"More a case of a breakout than terrorism or necrophilia, I hope but yes." Adam clarified, turning to walk back towards both the office, and the fire still burning behind it. "We need to get that Motor Home and get out of here ASAP. You think that's possible?"

"I've got the keys on me, and as I said, it's out of the row, we were putting the other units back in place when the fire broke out." Jack responded, turning to follow Adam. "I've got a question though, what the heck is a Watcher, even an ex-Watcher doing with an Immortal calling her Teacher anyhow?" Jack asked, claiming Sally's attention away from the still cowering Patrick, and drawing her along in their wake, leaving the other three behind.

"I think it is a combination of over-correction on her part, from having had her subject taken out by Hunters on her watch, and baby bird syndrome on Patrick's part. The funny thing though is that of all the Watchers he could have chosen Sue may be one of the best suited for the task, other than me, perhaps."

"What do ye mean?" Sally asked, joining the conversation, and hurrying to catch up to the other two men.

"I mean, she was raised in a Watcher family, much like yourself, Sally. Add to that the fact that she was at or near the top of her class last year in all her subjects, INCLUDING Fencing. Plus I tutored her in non-fencing sword techniques, and fighting dirty if need be, so she would have at least a chance of killing an Immortal and running away, without accidentally taking his head. Trust me, she's good, possibly as good if not better than some Immortals."

"So, you don't see it as a conflict for her to teach an Immortal?" Jack asked.

"A conflict, not if she is not watching. And she's not. She basically resigned when Eadgils lost his head. A wise choice, no. She will likely have to answer to a Tribunal, and that won't be pretty, but some Immortals in the past actually had Watchers as instructors. Granted, they didn't know what the Watcher was, or at least I don't think they did, but there have been Immortals schooled by ACTIVE Watchers in the Chronicles. They were rather concerned about their ability to remain impartial and non-judgmental, and a lot of our current taboos have grown out of those incidents, but it is not entirely unprecedented. The only problem is the last precedent was close to a thousand years ago, as far as I have been able to determine from a search of the Database. I started looking into this when I heard about Sue's actions last night. I was actually the first one to realize that having just lost an Immortal, and feeling guilty despite the fact that she nearly got killed trying to stop the Hunters, she apparently decided to make amends by helping another one directly. I understand her motivation, even Joe and Mike were able to understand it once I explained it to them, but none of us are happy about it."

"So, ye don't think it is wrong for her to teach one of them about Immortals?" Sally asked.

"I'm not saying it is RIGHT, or that I agree with her, I'm saying I understand why she's doing it, and I'm saying it is not unprecedented. That's all."

As Adam, Sally, and Jack walked away, Sue looked over at Cassandra. "Cassandra, you Ok?" she asked.

"Yes, Child. I haven't had a good laugh like that in centuries. Methos is the Watcher researching Methos, and he wants to interview ME about himself!" She started laughing again.

Sue looked over at Patrick, who was finally getting a hold of himself. Finally he spoke. "Sue, I'm sorry."

Sue was confused. "Sorry about what, Patrick?"

"That I brought Death here." He said. "I honestly didn't know."

Sue looked back and forth between both Cassandra and Patrick. Finally she spoke. "Patrick, his name is 'Adam' now. Please try and use it, especially around anyone else. Cassandra, I'll take your word that Adam is really Methos, and that Methos was Death. But, I have to tell you, the Adam I know isn't anything like the monster you described."

Cassandra looked thoughtful for a moment, and finally spoke, "Child, you are the second person who has told me that. The first one convinced me to spare his life, despite the debt I thought I still owed for my Teacher's death. But that Scissors move you tried on me, he taught it to you, didn't he?"

"Yes. Why?" Sue asked.

"Because, after he killed me, he kept me as a slave for close to a hundred years. I saw him use that very move several times, usually with success."

"Well, when I first met him in Paris, he sort of took me under his wing. He said he had known my Father, which at the time I thought was odd, since he was so young, and my Father had died two years before. But I found out he had been a researcher with the Watchers for almost ten years, and that would have given him plenty of time to meet my Dad. He taught me more about Fencing and sword fighting than I knew I could learn. I didn't really understand at the time why he was so insistent, I guess he knew, even then, huh?"

"Yes. And the Methos I knew would have killed you right away, then if he had no use for you, taken your head as soon as you revived. Your existence, more than any argument Duncan ever made tells me he has changed more than I would have thought. But Duncan is a good judge of people, and he called 'Adam' friend. That alone was enough for me to let him live 'till he gave me a new reason to take his head."

"But, is he going to join us?" Patrick asked.

"Cassandra, this is more your call. To me he has been only a friend and a mentor. To you he was a monster. Can you handle his presence? If you can't I'll tell him to leave. He should go away if I insist. I think." Sue said, turning to the elder Immortal.

"It's ok Child. Perhaps it will help me to finally put some demons which have troubled my soul for millennia to rest."

"Then, I guess he'll be joining us. With Sally that makes us five. The RV was a good call, Cassandra."

"It was a feeling I had, I must admit. Perhaps there was more to my choice than I had realized at the time though." Cassandra said.

"So, what are we doing about the extra cars?" Patrick asked.

"That's a good question. Cassandra, where did you get yours from?"

"Mine is from Hertz. I can return it here for only a small extra fee at the airport. Likely Sally can do so as well. That should be our first stop, once we get the RV, and load your car on the trailer. I hope 'Adam' is not too long getting back here with it." Cassandra said, even as the sound grew of an engine, and something clanking like a bell.

The Motor Home came up the isle from the office, an empty front-wheel car trailer banging along behind it. As it pulled up to the parking lot, the window slid open, and Adam called out, "Sue, how fast do you think you can drive your car onto the trailer? If you think it'll take more than a minute, I'd recommend we head down the road a bit before anyone shows up. I'm frankly surprised no one has arrived yet to block us in."

Sue looked at the trailer, as the door on the opposite side of the RV banged, and Sally and Jack came around the front.

Sue came to a decision. "Go. We'll follow. Look for a good place we can all stop to transfer luggage, then while we figure out how to hook up my car, Sally and Cassandra can return their rentals."

Sally, speaking to Cassandra directly for the first time said, "I thin' I can leave mine at the airport. What about you?"

Cassandra laughed lightly and said, "I was just telling Sue the exact thing." Raising her voice, she called, "Ok, everyone who's heading to L.A., follow the Motor Home!"

Sue climbed back in the front seat of her car, firing up the engine even as Patrick climbed in and closed his door. Pulling out onto the street she followed the slowly moving Motor Home as two other cars, presumably Sally's along with Cassandra's, fell in line behind her. The motor home slowly sped up, then slowed down and pulled over to the side as a fire engine howled past on the other side of the street. Moving once again, they continued several miles, before pulling into a grocery store parking lot.

Sue pulled up behind the RV, stopping about five feet away, while Sally drove on past, to stop right beside the front, with Cassandra parking behind her.

Sue climbed out, and walked up to look at the trailer. It was a small affair, meant for the front wheels of a car to drive on, then it would hitch to the back of the Motor home, holding the front wheels off the ground, and towing the car on it's rear wheels alone, the front supported by the trailer's wheels, and steered by the hitch it's self.

Adam had climbed out, and Sue noticed Sally had the trunk of her car open, and was handing things to both Patrick and Adam. Cassandra had also gotten out of her car, and opened up her own trunk. She was in the process of lifting some bags out, when Sue ambled over to offer her assistance.

"Is there anything I can carry, Cassandra?"

"Yes, Child. Take this bag." Cassandra replied, handing her the same bag Cassandra had used to change that afternoon after their fight.

Cassandra herself took the larger, and heavier looking suitcase, setting it down and pulling out its handles, to tow it behind her as she made her way to the RV's door.

Patrick was just disappearing inside, a gym bag in his hands, and Adam was waiting with a suitcase about half the size of Cassandra's sitting on the asphalt next to him.

Cassandra followed Patrick inside, lifting her suitcase after her by the tow handle, and Sue headed in next, dumping the bag on top of the table.

Patrick, Cassandra, and Adam were all three crowded into the bedroom in the back, apparently trying to figure out how to stuff everything in there. Sue moved to the front, as Sally came in through the door, a large cloth shopping bag in her hand, along with her purse. "This is the last of my stuff. Just put it anywhere, we can sort it all out later. I'm off to the airport. Where do you want me to meet you?"

Sue thought about that for a moment, but she had never been to the Memphis airport, and had no idea if something as large as a Motor Home could even fit in it.

"You know, that is a good question. I don't think we can pick you up there, at least not in this," she said, "Adam! We can't hook up my car just yet!"

"What's that?" came Adam's muffled voice from in back.

"I think I should run to the airport with Cassandra and Sally." Sue explained.

"Why?" Adam asked, coming out of the bedroom, leaving Cassandra and Patrick to try and fit the bags into the small closet. "I assumed we'd just pick them up in the motor home here."

"I don't know we could get the RV through the airport, height wise, let alone towing a car. I think it makes more sense for me to follow them out there, and bring them back, then we can hook up my car to the trailer and get moving."

"Ok. I suppose that makes sense. Patrick can stay here with me to help get everything packed, and lay in some provisions from the store. I may also drop the trailer here with Patrick, and go fill the tanks up now, while you make the airport run. I think that's a good idea." Adam said, looking towards the back.

Sally nodded, and said, "Ok. Sue, I'll look for your car at the Passenger Pickup closest to where I return the rental car. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Sure." Sue answered, as Sally headed out the door, and climbed into her car.

Cassandra and Patrick finally emerged from the bedroom. "Cassandra, was that everything from your car?" Sue asked her.

"Everything but my coat, and my purse, Child. Why?"

"Sally's on her way to the airport already. I'm going to follow in my car, pick the two of you up, and bring you back here."

"What about me?" Patrick asked.

"You'll stay here with Adam. I think he is planning on dropping the trailer and leaving you to guard it while he goes to fill this beast up with gas." Sue answered.

"I'm supposed to stay, with Adam?" Patrick asked nervously.

"You'll be fine. Don't worry about it." Sue answered.

"What, what if some other Immortal comes by while I'm all alone? I don't even have a sword, and if I did, I'd be more likely to kill myself than anything else." Patrick asked.

"No one will come by. You'll be fine." Sue said, but Cassandra suddenly spoke up.

"Sue, normally you'd probably be right. But you are forgetting the Youngling's Curse. One way it could discharge its task is to bring another Immortal by to take Patrick's head, no matter how unlikely the odds against it are."

Patrick uttered another "eep" at that, and went white.

Adam asked, "What curse?"

"Someone put a hefty curse on Patrick," Cassandra explained, "I believe it has killed him no less than four times in the past twenty four hours already."

Adam looked at Patrick with a new level of respect, measured with no small amount of pity. "Perhaps you should ride along with Sue after all, Patrick."

Sue nodded, and said. "Fine. Let's get going then. Adam, are you still going to get gas while we are gone?"

"I think so. I'll hit the store first and load up on groceries, then ask directions to the nearest gas station. I should be filled up and back here before you are. If I'm not, please wait for me. I shouldn't be too long."

"Ok Adam." Sue said, heading to her car.

"Cassandra, I'll be looking for Sally at the Passenger Pickup, same for you?"

"Ok, Child. I'll look for you there."

Cassandra drove away, and Sue and Patrick climbed in the Geo and followed her.

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Two hours later, Sue was back, with Patrick and Sally crammed into the back, and Cassandra in the front passenger seat.

When she mentally added their luggage to her own and Patrick's in the trunk, she realized that Cassandra had been right, even without including Adam, her car was just too small for four people to go cross country in.

The motor home was in the same place, although it was now facing the other way. Adam was standing outside it; a soda can in his hand, leaning on the rear bumper, with one foot propped against the car trailer, which had been disconnected from the RV.

"About time you got back. You realize it is almost eight?" he called out as Sue and the rest climbed out of the car.

"Sorry. We went as fast as possible, but traffic was bad." Sue explained. "Did you get everything taken care of?"

"Yes. I filled both gas tanks, topped off the propane, and stocked us up on food, sodas, and beer."

"Adam, if I find a single bottle cap," Sue began, thinking back to the kitchen in Adam's apartment in Paris.

"Cans. All cans, more's the pity." Adam interrupted. "I was more afraid of breakage than concerned with the taste of aluminum tarnishing my palette."

"Fine. Let's get my car hooked up then, and get this show on the road."

"I couldn't agree more. If nothing else, we have to get out of Memphis tonight. Worst case, we can stop at Little Rock tonight, and get an early start in the morning. If we all rotate shifts driving for about two hours each, we should make it to Amarillo Texas by this time tomorrow. If we can keep up that rate, we'll be in Los Angeles by Thursday evening."

Adam and Patrick took up positions to both sides of the car, as Sue climbed back in and fired up the engine, Cassandra and Sally closing the rear doors and backing away, to 'supervise', one on each side of the car.

Following Adam and Patrick's enigmatic and occasionally contradictory hand signals, Sue was able to drive her front wheels up onto the trailer hitch, and hold the car still while Adam secured the wheels to the trailer with some chains. She then got out and watched as Adam and Patrick secured the trailer to the tow hitch on the RV while Patrick held it in place.

Sue closed her door, locking the car, and followed everyone on inside the Motor Home.

Adam took up the Drivers seat, with Patrick parking himself on the couch, while Cassandra and Sally had disappeared into the back, presumably to check on their luggage. Sue closed the door behind her, and went on forward, and sat down in the still rear-facing passenger seat, as Adam fired up the engine. "Everybody set?" he called out.

At the muffled acknowledgements from the back, he put the beast in gear and headed out onto the road, turning towards West Memphis and Highway 40.

As he hit the on-ramp to Highway 40 west, Sally came forwards and plopped down on the couch beside Patrick, Cassandra joining them a few moments later, and claiming one entire side of the table, sitting on the bench lengthwise, with her back against the wall, and her feet sticking out in the isle between the couch and the table.

Sally looked across the isle at the Immortal. "Cassandra, how long have you known about Watchers?"

Cassandra got a far off look, then refocused her green eyes across the isle on her Watcher. "I think I ran into my first Watcher sometime in eight or nine hundred A.D. I wasn't really paying attention to the Roman Catholic calendar at that time. I was still living on the continent, in France. I realized one day that some girl was following me around. The next day she was there again. I left town that day, thinking she may have been a scout for some other Immortal, and not really wanting to fight. It wasn't a big deal, as I was living at the time in a Gypsy Wagon. The next town I stopped at, I again noticed the girl was following me. Now the big thing back then was almost no one traveled, other than the wealthy, and those like myself who could make a living on the road.

"This girl did not have the look of wealth about her, and she was not making a living by providing some transient service, she was spending her time following me. I still feared another Immortal, but I was also angered at the thought of one of us involving Mortals in their hunt. That evening, I confronted the girl, and when she tried to run, I stopped her with The Voice. I compelled her to tell me of the Immortal who had sent her. The poor girl just cried. I then released her compulsion, and instructed her to tell me instead of whoever had set her on my trail. She told me a story of the 'La sociáˆtሠd'Observateurs', a group of MORTALS, who knew of our kind, and watched us to create a record of our lives, our fights, and our deaths."

Adam spoke up from the front of the RV, "Cassandra, did she happen to recite her oath for you, and if so, do you recall it?"

Cassandra looked forward at the back of Adam's head, then back at Sally, and nodded. "Yes. I remember it, but it was an ancient form of French at the time. Her words were 'Je suis un observateur. J'engagepour voir les interactions entre Immortel sans le jugement et sans prend d'acte ou sans organise de n'importe quelle information sur remarquer et enregistrer que l'est venu de leur combat pourrait endommager. A ceci, j'engage que ma droite pour habiter.' or something pretty close to that."

"What does that mean in English?" Sally asked Cassandra.

Cassandra answered, "I'm not a linguist, so I may mangle this, but something along the lines of, 'I am an observer. I pledge to see and record the interactions between Immortals without judgment and without taking actions or without giving any information that could alter the fights for them or could cause them damage. To this, I pledge my right to life.'"

Adam spoke up again, "I would change a word or two, but not bad for someone who claims not to be a linguist."

Sally said to Cassandra, "There isn't anything in there about not interacting with Immortals, is there, as long as those interactions don't affect the outcomes of their fights, at least."

"No, there isn't. I don't know where that notion came from, however by the time they found me again in Glenfinnan, in fifteen eighty or so. The first full time Watcher I know that they assigned to me there was a local boy named Neil who they recruited, and who started keeping records on me from about fifteen eighty five. I decided to return the favor in about fifteen eighty six."

"What do ya mean return the favor?" Patrick asked from his seat next to Sally, who also looked confused.

"Now I know why I brought it!" Cassandra said, her face suddenly brightening into a smile, and her green eyes gleaming mischievously as she got up and hurried to the back or the RV.

Sue, who had been watching the whole thing from the rear facing passenger seat, asked, "Do you have any idea what she is talking about, Sally?"

Sally shrugged and said, "No. I'm just a Watcher. I think Cassandra is supposed to be the mind reader."

Cassandra was returning from the back again, an ancient looking brown leather book in her hands.

"Sally, may I present you with the first volume of the MacGreggor Family Chronicle"

"The What?" Sally squeeked, looking at the ancient book with its yellow pages.

"This is the book I started on the folks who spent their time recording the events of my life. I decided one cold winter night in fifteen eighty six that if Neil could record the events, both major and minor of my life, that I could do no less than the same for him, and later his nephew Brian. I continued to chronicle the events of Neil and Kathleen's life, and the rest of their family, from then on."

Looking at the back of Adam's head, she added, "The rest of the Watchers may be interested in this book as well. While it only continues through sixteen thirty, it does cover some interesting events regarding other Immortals as well."

"Like what?" Sue asked.

"Like how Neil's sister in law Mary, and her husband Ian MacLeod adopted young Duncan in late fifteen ninety two. How in sixteen oh three, they also adopted Ian's nephew Robert, after Ian's brother, Alastair died. And how Ian at the same time became Clan Chief, and his eldest son, Duncan became heir apparent to that position.

"How, in sixteen eighteen, Duncan killed his foster brother Robert, in a quarrel over a girl, Debra Campbell, who was Duncan's first love, but was Robert's betrothed, and also how Debra died that day, falling from a cliff.

"How Duncan died his first death in sixteen twenty two, came back, and was driven out of the community labeled by his own father as a demon.

"How Duncan's father, Ian was killed by an Immortal, Kanwulf the Viking two years later, and how young Duncan, knowing nothing of Immortals killed Kanwulf to avenge his father and left his body behind, head still firmly attached.

"How my first Glenfinnan Watcher, Neil succeeded Duncan's father as Clan Chief. Things like that." Cassandra explained with a smile.

"Wow!" Sally said, looking carefully at the volume in her hands. "But a lot of that had nothing to do with MacGreggors, why did you record it?"

"Sally, the world back then was large and empty, people few and far between. A community was basically all one family, whether in name, or in spirit. While I call these books the MacGreggor Family Chronicle, the truth is they cover many events in Glenfinnan, granted mostly the ones which impacted directly on my Watchers and their families, but no story is complete without the inclusion of the parts which help to shape it from outside. I included those parts which I could see. If someone were to take the records your family has kept of me, and lay it beside the records I have kept on them, the two together will create a whole which provides a greater picture of Glenfinnan than anyone would have been able to make themselves."

Adam from the front chuckled, "So, Cassandra, finally an answer for one of the questions I heard at the Academy long ago, 'Who Watches The Watchers?' The Witch Watches the Watchers."

"As if you don't have your own journals, Adam." Cassandra retorted.

Sue in alarm quickly tried to change the subject before Sally heard something she shouldn't, and asked Cassandra, "You said this book only runs through sixteen thirty, but you said the others as well. How many books are there?"

Counting the volume on Sally and her sisters, there are twenty seven of them." Cassandra answered.

"You, you have a book on ME?" Sally asked.

"Yes dear. You, your sisters Jenny and Patricia, and your father, your mother, and many others. I will not let you see any chronicle which contains records on any mortal still living. The rest of the collection, I will loan to you, or if they are interested, the Society through Adam." Cassandra said.

"May I read this one now?" Sally asked, lifting the ancient book held carefully in her hands.

"Certainly. That is why I got it out for you." Cassandra said.

"Sally, you might want to take it back into the bedroom and close the door to read it in there with the light on." Adam recommended.

Sally nodded, and carefully got up and made her way back to the bedroom in the rear of the RV, closing the door behind her.

The rest just sat quietly in the dark, while Adam drove on into the night.

========================== ==========================

Cassandra gets a shock. And more is learned about Sue and Eadgils.

Chapter Seventeen
A Meeting
by Dana Short
========================== ==========================

Sue awoke as Adam pulled the RV off the highway, slowing down as he took the ramp for the 430 south.

Looking down at her watch, she saw the time was after ten. Another look outside the window showed a Motel 6, with a glowing "Vacancy" sign, the glowing rates offering a room for the price of $37.99 a night.

"Where are we?" she asked Adam sleepily.

"Little Rock. West side. I was looking for a decent place to stay, but this was the first Vacancy sign I saw."

Sue looked over her shoulder. Patrick was asleep stretched out on the couch, snoring softly. Cassandra's green eyes were looking at her in the dark, seeming to glow softly, like a cat's. The faint light from under the bedroom door was the only sign of Sally.

"Ok. I assume we'll be moving on in the morning?" Sue asked.

"That's the plan. I was going to recommend a seven am wakeup call for everyone."

"That's fine." She said.

Cassandra spoke up softly, so as not to wake Patrick, "Do you think we can get adjoining rooms?"

"I doubt it," Sue replied, looking back at the motel, "Most likely all they have are standard doubles and queens. No adjoining suites. We might be able to get rooms next to one another. Why?"

"The Youngling. I don't think it is good to leave him alone. Too much chance for the Curse to do something unpleasant."

"I'll room with him," Adam volunteered. "If they don't have a double twin, I'll sleep here in the Motor Coach. He can have the front or the back. Makes me no difference."

"Let's see what they have available." Sue put in, "Before we start making final arrangements. But thanks, Adam. I appreciate it."

Adam pulled off the highway, and the second change in speed finally woke Patrick up. "Huh?" he said, as he rolled off the couch to land on the floor with a soft flump-splat-thunk as he hit the linoleum.

The bedroom door opened, and Sally looked out, book in hand. Seeing Patrick on the floor, she asked him, "Patrick, are you ok?"

"I'm not dead." Was his only reply.

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The front desk informed them that they had four rooms left. One, with two Queen beds, two with single queen beds, and a final one with two twin beds.

Adam and Patrick took the double queen, while Sue insisted Cassandra and Sally take the other two with single queens, taking the double twin bed room for herself.

It was only minor mayhem for everyone to collect luggage from the RV, or in Sue and Patrick's case from the trunk of her car behind the RV. Sue herself collected the Laptop, and her large suitcase. Patrick gathered his one bag, and followed Adam, who was toting a newly acquired nylon expandable duffle bag himself.

Sue found her room, dumped her bags on the first bed, slid the security bolt home, and the curtains closed.

She then headed for the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went, pausing only to wrap her hair tightly before sliding into the shower.

She stood under the warm spray for quite a while, before shutting off the water, drying off with a towel, and opening her bag to get her sleep shirt and a fresh pair of panties out.

Putting her hair into a lose braid, she turned down the covers on the second bed, shut off the light in the bathroom, called the front desk to leave a seven AM wake up call, as Adam had recommended, and climbed into bed, shutting off the light. It had been a long day, and sleep was not long in coming.

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Sue was again in the shapeless place that was at the same time anywhere, and nowhere.

She stood in the midst of the 'endless room', the wall visible a short distance away, smooth and formless, stretching into darkness above, to the left, and the right. In the center was a closed door.

Sue approached the door and knocked on it.

After her third knock, the door opened a crack, and Eadgils peeked out at her. "What do you want?" he asked.

"To apologize." She said.

"Apologize for what?" he asked.

"For being such a bitch."

"Ok. I'm listening."

"I'm sorry I was so mad at you. I know this hasn't exactly been easy for you either, as you knew perfectly well, when you lost your head, that was it. No more innings. Instead, you find yourself here. Stuck with me. And all I did was bitch at you about it. I know this wasn't your fault. I know you have done your best to help give me at least a fighting chance. And I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Eadgils looked at The Girl. There were tears brimming in her eyes, and he could feel her sincerity in his very soul. Although all things considered, it was more likely it was her soul he was feeling. Whichever it was, she was sincere about the apology.

He opened the door the rest of the way, and strode on out. "Apology accepted, and offered back to you in turn. I'm sure it isn't easy for you either, having your entire life disrupted by the ghost of a dead man. I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you."

Sue hugged him. When she stepped back, they were again in the "dojo of the mind", and she stood before him in a plain white gi, her katana held loosely in her right hand. "Want to spar, Teacher?" she asked, for the first time awarding him that honor, one which after a day with Patrick in her care she now truly understood.

That one question meant more to Eadgils than the apology which had preceded it, and they both knew it.

He pulled his ancient sword, and they began to spar.

As they fought, Sue started to tell him about her day, "Adam showed up today." She started.

"Death?" Eadgils said, missing a block, and getting sliced clean through the neck with a decapitating blow by the blade of Sue's Katana, the blade passing bloodlessly, but painfully through his throat, leaving a line to mark its passage which gradually faded.

"He is not Death. Whatever he is or was, he is different now."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Your student believes it." Sue retorted.'

"Who, you?" Eadgils asked, scoring a slice on her leg as her attention wavered slightly.

"No, Cassandra." Sue replied, again taking advantage of his momentary shock to swing her blade through his neck again, gaining yet another 'Kill'.

"Cassandra lives?" he asked, his blade dropping to the mat from nerveless fingers.

"Cassandra lives. Apparently in Scotland. She is coming along to L.A. with Patrick, myself, Adam, and Cassandra's Watcher."

"Cassandra? How is she? I thought she was dead long ago." Eadgils said, sitting down on the soft slope of the hillside under the shining afternoon sun, white fluffy clouds drifting through the perfect blue sky above, as slight breezes chased each other amongst the fragrant and colorful flowers scattered about amongst the emerald grasses.

"She is fine. She bought me a Motor Home today."

"She what?" Eadgils asked.

Sue proceeded to reiterate to him the entire day's events, starting with the early morning call from Joe and Mike, and running on through breakfast and the fight with Cassandra, through Cassandra's fight with the Finance Manager, and their subsequent departure from Memphis, and arrival in Little Rock.

"You beat Cassandra?" Eadgils asked again, the Dojo returning around them as he stood up and bent over to retrieve his sword from where it had fallen.

"Yes. With a move you taught me. I tried one Adam taught me, but it didn't work, she had seen it before, big surprise. But she was distracted enough by my tossing my Bowie knife at her for me to sink the stiletto into her heart. End-Game."

"I'm proud of you." Eadgils said honestly. "Perhaps you don't need me anymore after all."

"No, Ed. I think I may always need you, which is good, since it looks like I'll always have you. One thing troubles me though."

"What's that, Sue?" Eadgils asked, bringing his sword to a ready position, and starting another round of full contact combat practice with her.

"No one felt your Quickening in mine today." She said.

Again Eadgils faltered, and again Sue took advantage of his distraction and automatically sliced his neck in what would be a killing blow, were he not already dead.

"What do you mean no one felt me?" he asked.

"I mean that when I compared the strength of both my Quickening and Patrick's, they were miniscule compared to Cassandra's or Adam's. Heck, they were significantly smaller than that Douglas idiot. Which makes sense if he had six heads under his belt as he claimed. But my Quickening should be a lot stronger than Patrick's, not just marginally. Shouldn't it?"

"Yes, it should." Eadgils said, swinging back into motion.

Sue and Eadgils sparred on for what felt again like years, much as they had that first night.

At some indefinable point, the feel of the landscape subtly shifted, but neither one specifically noticed it. It wasn't until the power of a Quickening washed over both of then at once that either one noticed anything was happening.

Eadgils caught sight of something, or someone moving behind Sue. A familiar shape, and the sight of it again froze Eadgils, much as the mention of its name earlier did.

And as before, sensing his distraction, Sue went for the end-all neck shot. But even as she began her swing, a voice rang out in the Dojo "No!"

Sue's blade followed through its course even as Cassandra's scream echoed around her, her blade again slicing bloodlessly through Eadgils's neck.

Sue was suddenly knocked off her feet as Cassandra's body impacted hers, and together they fell into Eadgils frozen form, all three of them toppling to the mat.

Cassandra, in a panic looked at Sue, and cried, "You killed him! Why?"

Eadgils finally spoke, saying "Cassandra?"

Suddenly she whirled her head around, to look at the form she had previously been deliberately avoiding, the headless body of her ancient teacher and lover. Only it wasn't headless. Unlike the last time, when in Savannah she had seen the still, dead form of her teacher, this time he looked entirely whole and alive.

"Eadgils?" she asked questioningly.

"Yes, Cassi." He replied, reaching out and tenderly cupping the side of her head.

"I - I thought you were dead!" she sobbed.

"I am." Eadgils replied, softly. "And I thought you were long gone as well."

"I, I had heard you got killed by, by Methos. Three thousand years ago. You challenged him, and lost. I heard about it. And then, I had the chance to finally take his head, and avenge you, and I, I let him go, because Duncan asked me to." Cassandra was almost incoherent as she sobbed, her head buried against Eadgils's chest as he held her reassuringly.

"Hush, Cassi. It'll be all right." He soothed, stroking her dark hair.

It was night, and the stars above were shining brightly, the moon glowing hugely behind faint wispy clouds, just above some distant peaks. A campfire was burning between Sue, and Eadgils and Cassandra. Crickets chirped, and in the distance, a wolf howled faintly.

"It's ok Cassi" Eadgils repeated softly over the occasional crackle-pop of pitch exploding in the fire as the logs burned.

"Then, the other night, I felt you. And, I knew, I knew something was wrong. I had to come. I had to. And I saw you. I actually saw you this time. And I saw your body."

"It's all right. Calm down." Eadgils soothed, hugging her again. "Take a deep breath, ok? It'll be ok."

"No, it won't. Because I found your Watcher. I like her. She has a student. Did you know she has a student already? And she died for you. I liked her. But then, tonight. I felt you again. Like I did before."

"I'm here, Cassi. I'm not going anywhere." Eadgils said, again stroking her hair.

"And then, I found you. In the Gym. With your Watcher. And she had her sword. I saw her sword. And your neck. She killed you!"

"No Cassi, she didn't kill me. I'm already dead, I died in Savannah. You were right, you saw my body. But we were wrong. It wasn't the end. I'm here, now. With Sue." Eadgils said softly.

"No! I thought you might have been. I even thought she might have taken your head. I was ready to avenge you, if I had to. But no. She is but a Youngling, without a single head to her credit, other than her own." Cassandra explained.

"Perhaps that is it. Perhaps no one can feel me because she didn't beat me. Sue didn't take my head, Cassi. She died her First Death trying to save my neck. Somehow though, she got my Quickening. All of it."

"But, How?" Cassandra asked.

"I, honestly, don't, know." Eadgils said slowly, as a bell began to ring distantly, like the opening of a race, or a fire bell.

Cassandra looked around as the nighttime hillside faded into grayness, and her teacher faded with it.

Eadgils watched as Cassandra, Sue, and the hillside faded away, leaving only the bell, ringing ever louder.

Reaching out, Eadgils finally got his hand on the receiver of the ringing phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Tom Bodett, and I'd like to tell you that you've just won a million dollars! Well, not really. But it is time for you to get up." Came the voice from the other end.

Eadgils swung out of bed, brushing Sue's hair out of his face, and looked around the room.

The memories of the last day, reinforced by Sue's retelling settled in his mind, and he knew he had to meet everyone, including Adam/Death and Cassi out front by the motor home at eight.

He went to Sue's suitcase and pulled the bottles of Shampoo and Conditioner out, along with a set of clothes, and padded barefoot into the bathroom for a shower.

---------------------------------------
Forty minutes later, Eadgils headed down stairs, laptop case over his shoulder, and Sue's repacked suitcase thumping down the stairs behind him.

Passing through the lobby without pausing, he headed out to the RV. When he was half way across the parking lot, he felt the telltale tingling of another Quickening. The door on the RV banged open, and a sleepy looking Adam stumbled down the stairs, looking around. Upon only seeing Sue's form approaching, he looked alarmed, and started searching around frantically for someone.

Suddenly he called out, "Sue! No! Gods, no!"

"What is it?" Eadgils called, confused.

"Please, tell me you didn't kill Cassandra last night!" Adam said, taking a step backwards towards the door to the R.V.

"Cassandra? No. I didn't kill Cassandra last night." He replied. Suddenly, Eadgils felt a second tingling on his mind, this time from behind. Turning his head, he saw Cassi!

"Cassi!" he called out, dropping the handle of Sue's suitcase, and ran back the way he'd come, laptop banging at his side.

Cassandra just stood there, just outside the lobby of the motel, looking at the scene before her in shock. A closer look at her face showed she had been crying.

Eadgils finally got to Cassi, and grabbed her in a tight hug, almost knocking her off her feet. "Cassi!" he cried, "It is so good to see you again!"

Cassandra looked at him, then whispered, "Eadgils?"

Eadgils nodded, and said, "Was that you last night, in Sue's mind?"

Cassandra's eyes widened, and she nodded again. "That was Sue's dream?"

"We don't know. It's anywhere, and nowhere. Things are different there. But what or where it is, I don't believe either one of us has figured out."

Adam had walked warily over to join them, and now looked at Eadgils with a quizzical expression, then suddenly his face fell. "No!" he almost sobbed.

"What is it Methos?" Cassandra asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

"No. Please, this is even worse than I thought." Adam said, reaching out and gently grasping Eadgils's chin, turning Sue's head to look into her eyes. "Please, tell me you didn't Channel him somehow?"

========================== ==========================

---

More [Meeting of Minds]

We learn that what has happened to Sue and Eadgils is not quite unique, as the world's oldest Immortal has seen something similar once before, and he tells the sad story.

Chapter Eighteen
Early Morning History Class
by Dana Short
========================== ==========================

"What do you mean, channel?" Cassandra said, looking at Adam in confusion.

"Once before, a long time ago. I had two friends. Immortals. They both knew me, but they did not know one another." Adam began.

"Euclopities had known me since just after I left the Horsemen, about two thousand years before, and we had been friends for the better part of the past thousand by that point. Rojor on the other hand was a newly Quickened Immortal. Less than thirty winters in his life and not a head to his name at that time. He was almost a student to me, since the mentor he had been studying under had lost his head the year before. I lived along the ocean at the time. My home was a reed shack, located atop some bluffs overlooking the sea. I was out one day when they both decided to visit. I still don't know what happened in my absence, but I believe Rojor concluded that Euclopities had taken Samuel's head, which he had. I returned to find them engaged in combat, and there was nothing I could do other than watch.

"Rojor and Euclopities fought alongside the edge of the cliff, it was a sight to see, the wind blowing inland, and the waves crashing below them. Then, all of a sudden the ground they were standing on gave way. And as they tumbled towards the waves, Rojor apparently got in a final telling swing against Euclopities. There were three separate splashes in the water below, the smallest of them caused by a lone head.

"I never saw a sign of the Quickening. Not a flash, not a spark even. Over an hour passed, before Rojor heaved his body ashore at the base of the cliffs. I made my way to him, but when he spoke to me, it was in Greek, not the language which he had always spoken, and he addressed me as though he were Euclopities, not Rojor."

Eadgils felt a cold chill run through his whole body, as Methos/Adam regaled him with his tale. The parallels to him and Sue were glaringly obvious.

"Are you saying that somehow the older Immortal replaced the young one?" Cassandra asked, with a glance at Eadgils.

"No, although that was what I also thought at first. Rojor truly believed himself to be Euclopities. And yet, at the same time, he knew things only Rojor had known before."

"I know the feeling," Eadgils said.

"Gods, I had hoped I was wrong. I am so sorry to hear that." Adam said, his face falling.

"Why? What more is there to the story that you haven't told us, Methos?" Cassandra asked sternly.

"For that first day, all I could tell was that Rojor had somehow obtained quite literally all that was Euclopities. All his skills, his talents, his knowledge, his memories, even his personalities. It was like the percentage of Rojor which was left had been diluted almost out of existence by the sum of Euclopities. But the next day, things had changed. It was more like Euclopities had faded. Even his Quickening was no longer there. He felt no stronger than he had before."

Again, Cassandra looked at Eadgils appraisingly, then turned back to Adam, "Continue."

"Well, we spoke long that day, and he told of his experience, how he was quite literally possessed by the ghost of the man he had bested. He was concerned that this was normal. I assured him it was not. He named the process, based on the one used by the spiritualists to contact the dead, he called it 'Leiden', 'Leiden de geest van Euclopities' as he said, which translates into English as channeling the spirit of Euclopities, or simply Channeling. It was as if he had been possessed by the spirit of the dead, and his people had many stories about this happening. He was frightened."

"Sue is still here, but so am I" Eadgils said, truly acknowledging the situation to Adam for the first time.

At that statement, Adam's face fell even more, until he looked like he would cry, "That was exactly what I most feared." He continued, shaking his head.

"For that second day, Rojor was fine, shaken by his experience, but otherwise fine. It was after the dawn of the third day that he started to truly lose his mind. He awoke the next day, his Quickening, like yours, again showing the presence of Euclopities. But more than that, he was cursing in Greek. When I asked him how he was, he looked at me as if I were a stranger, and attacked me with bare fists. I fought him off, and knocked him out. When he revived, he was rational again, but once more acted as though he was Euclopities. Throughout that day he would pause, as though hearing voices only he could here. I didn't know what to make of it. Late that afternoon, he started answering the silent voices, arguing with himself in a dozen languages."

"He must have been hard to deal with like that," Cassandra said, "Did he get better?"

A tear actually formed at Adam's eye, and started to run down his cheek as he shook his head. "No. Worse. The next day, he awoke before Dawn, screaming about the ghosts. 'Ik moet de geesten in mijn hoofd vrijgeven! De geesten ontkom!' he screamed, waking me from my sleep. He grasped a rock from the earth from outside my house, and pounded his head until he died, screaming all the time about the ghost in his head, 'De geesten in mijn hoofd!'

"When he revived, he was if anything worse. He tried to take my sword, but I fought him off. Somewhere, he got a stick though, and he shoved it in his head, killing himself again. I pulled it out, and he revived, to resume screaming and fighting. He had truly gone mad, screaming over and over again 'Verhuur hen uit mijn hoofd! Krijg hen uit mijn hoofd!' I tied him up, and gagged him so he couldn't scream any more or hurt himself again. His eyes were wild. I kept him like that for almost three days, for three days I cared for a genuine madman, screaming over and over about the ghosts in his head, and pleading for me to somehow let them out. It was the fifth morning after the fight that was the worst though. I awoke early, again before dawn, but it was to silence for a change. I looked over at Rojor's pallet, but it was empty.

"I climbed out of bed, and retrieved my sword. I could feel Rojor's Quickening at the cliff, outside the hut. I went out into the early pre-dawn light, and there I found him. Somehow he had freed himself from the bindings I had tied him with the night before. He must have climbed down the cliff to the sea below, because he now held Euclopities bronze blade in his hands. He looked at me with wild eyes, and said the longest and most coherent thing he had said in days, he said in a calm monotone. He said. 'Ik moet u doden om de geesten. enig je ziel kan doden de geesten in mijn hoofd te doden. Ik moet u mijn vriend doden. Dood alstublieft de geesten, alstublieft doodt mij.'

"Roughly translated, he said that to kill the ghosts in his head, he had to have my soul, to kill me. He then asked me to kill the ghosts, and to kill him. Before I could respond, he attacked. It was one of the hardest fights of my life, either before or since. You may have heard of someone who fights like a madman, well Rojor genuinely did so. He kept on long after he should have collapsed from his injuries. He came close to taking my head several times. It was only the rising sun which saved me, its first rays striking him in the eyes, and making him pause just long enough. Long enough for me to take his head."

Adam looked at Eadgils, and a second tear fell down his cheek, following the track of the first, and he said, "That was my experience with one Immortal Channeling another one. Pain, Madness, and the end of a friend and a student, at my own hand. Taking his head was the hardest thing I ever did, but what made it worse was what he said, even as I began my swing. 'Bedankt.' It meant, Thank you."

========================== ==========================

After a discussion about famous Immortals, Cassandra tells her story about her time with Methos to Adam, for the official Watcher record. Later, while on the road again, Eadgils finally corners Methos and gets the answers to some of his questions about the eldest's relationship with Sue. Adam tells more than expected, and Sue will learn something about herself which will shake her identity to it's very soul.

Act II
Road Trip

Chapter Nineteen
On The Road To Yellow, By Another Name
by Dana Short

Adam had regained his composure by the time Sally joined the rest of the group inside the Motor Home. They decided to eat breakfast on down the road, and with Patrick driving the first shift, Adam taking Shotgun, Eadgils on the couch, and Cassandra once more sitting at the table, Sally took the opposite side of the table, and stretched out as well.

"So, Cassandra, who would you say is the most famous Immortal you ever met?" Sally asked, "Would it be Elvis?"

"I don't think so. He was famous, no doubt about that, but I think the most famous would probably be the one the most people knew was Immortal." Cassandra replied, her eyes seeing beyond the wall opposite her, and into the past somewhere.

"I wasn't aware there were any Immortals who were famous for being Immortal." Eadgils replied from his position opposite Cassandra.

"What do you mean?" asked Adam swinging his seat around to face the interior instead of the road. "I can think of several generally known Immortals. Achilles for one."

"Achilles?" asked Sally, "Homer's Achilles?"

"The very same one. One of the earliest recorded accounts of a known Immortal on record." Adam replied.

"I thought he was a Greek God or something." Patrick asked.

"Greek, no. He predated the Greeks by several thousand years. No Achilles was an Ionian Warrior." Adam replied

"I thought Achilles was only vulnerable on the heal? Aren't all Immortals vulnerable only in the neck?" Patrick asked.

"That was what he told the Greeks, so that the Trojans would waste their time shooting and hacking at his feet, about as far away from his neck as he could get them. Pretty clever if you think about it." Adam explained.

"Wow. So how did he die?" Patrick asked.

"The Trojans hired a Minoan Immortal who was a mercenary into their army, by the name of Paris. He killed Achilles, cutting off his head, and later claimed he brought him down with an arrow to the heal, figuring that if people didn't know how to kill Immortals, it was safer for him." Adam replied.

"That's all well and good," Sally interrupted, "But I was askin' Cassandra 'bout the moast famous n'mortal she knew."

"I'd say it was James. I met him during my visit to the U.S. in 1833 to see Duncan." Cassandra replied finally.

"Who was James?" Sally asked, intrigued.

Eadgils's ears pricked up at the mention of the name and date. "Bowie?" he asked.

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. I met him in New Orleans. I didn't like the man. It was not well known, but he was a student of Jean LaFitte the pirate. They smuggled slaves. He told me he took his first head in 1831."

"Who was this James Bowie, how was he famous?" Sally asked confused.

Eadgils in a silent explanation fished the Bowie knife out of the holster on his back, producing the blade as if from nowhere, and handing it to Sally. "This is known as a Bowie Knife. Legend has it that James Bowie saw a rock fall from the sky one day, and used it to make his knife. He called it a Bowie Knife. Truth is his brother made it, James was useless at metal smithing. Always burning himself and dropping things."

Sally examined the carbon fiber blade and plastic handle with rubber grips. "This is nae metal, 'tis some sort o' plastic, or glass!" she exclaimed.

"That one is, yes. I like to carry it because the size and weight make it easy to conceal, but it is big and heavy enough to be useful as a weapon if I get forced into a fight. And since there is no metal in it, it doesn't set off metal detectors." Eadgils explained.

Sally looked Adam in the eyes, and said "I see what ye mean tha she is qualified ta teach a n'mortal." Her voice slurring with her distraction.

"How is this James a famous Immortal though?" Sally asked, "I naeer heard of him."

"Believe it or not, they have documentation of him being shot, stabbed, and run through with a sword in a single fight. Each time the Spanish thought him dead, he would get up and fight again." Cassandra replied.

Eadgils had been fishing in Sue's memory, and asked Adam, "Did you ever hear of a chronicle on him?"

Adam who had been looking mystified the whole time, shook his head, and said, "No. As far as I know none of the Watchers ever identified him as an Immortal. I wonder why?"

"Probably because he died his first death when he was shot by some guy named Wright in 1826, who he killed in a fight a year later, after being shot twice, and stabbed several times according to the witnesses. He lost his head to the Spanish Immortal Juan Almonte at the Alamo in March of 1836." Cassandra replied. "And before you ask, Juan lost his head to Duncan in 1842. That's about all I know about it."

"That's pretty amazing itself, I mean an Immortal, who was known to be an Immortal in the nineteenth century, but with no chronicle, and who wasn't known by the Watchers as an Immortal." Adam responded.

"Yea. Prhaps the lass was right, me talking ta my n'mortal." Sally said, with a glance across the isle at Eadgils.

"I thought the Watchers always kept an eye on the Immortals?" Patrick asked from the driver's seat.

"Nae, we try, but thae have a tenancy tae dissapear when yaer loookin right aet em sometimes." Sally grumbled back.

Eadgils proffered, "Some times you need a bit of privacy."

"I soppose. But it maeks fer a hard time o keeping thae chronicles." Sally muttered.

Silence descended, broken only by the constant rumbling of the road beneath the wheels, and the whistling of the wind outside.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was approaching ten thirty in the morning as Patrick pulled off the highway and stopped at a Denny's in Fort Smith for a late breakfast.

He had been driving the whole time, but the general consensus had been that cold dry cereal just didn't sound worthy of being eaten. Adam, who had forgotten to get milk, was the only one who actually considered trying fruit loops in beer.

They headed inside, and shortly were seated at a corner booth, having arrived between the breakfast and lunch crowds.

After the waitress had taken their order and gone back, Adam turned to Cassandra and said, "So Cassandra, is there anything you think you can add to the Methos records? I heard you knew him."

Cassandra choked on her water, and after spluttering for a few moments trying to catch her breath, she finally looked at him across the table, and said evenly, "Are you sure you would want what I would have to say in his record? Really sure?"

Adam looked her in the eye, and nodded his head slowly. "Yes. People change. But the records the Watchers have of Methos only go back to shortly after their founding, about three thousand years ago. Granted, your memories would only be able to add a small slice from before that time, but it would be a critical slice, and a slice which is NOT in the record at present. I think it needs to be, if for no other reason, than completeness."

Cassandra looked at him for a long time, her eyes studying his face. As she looked at him, the waitress came and went two times, laying out their food orders. Finally she nodded. "Ok. You're being honest. I don't understand the reasoning behind it, but you genuinely want me to tell my story to you. I can feel that. I suppose if nothing else, Sally here can add it to my own chronicle. Some sort of an appendix."

"Aye. I can do that. It would as good as anything show this was nae a waste of my time as well. I expect to catch eneaou grief from my Da when I get home. Prhaps a history o' Cassandra from afore there were Watchers would be enou tae get 'em off mae back."

"Ok then. I will start with the beginning. Some of this is already in the records somewhere, I am sure. But I might as well put it all down for posterity." Cassandra said, around a bite of grand-slam pancakes.

Sally pulled a PDA out of her purse, and set it to record audio, then put it down on the table, making eye contact with Cassandra, who gave her a smile and a nod.

"My name is Cassandra, and I am Immortal. I was found on the plains of the Arabian desert. Where I came from, no one could tell me, but the tribe's healer and wise man, Hijad told me he was led to me by the gods. He raised me as his own daughter, and schooled me in the ways of the shaman. I learned to commune with the world, and myself. I learned the arts of healing, and of touching the spirit worlds. I lived as his daughter for over twenty years, growing stronger and wiser. It was a happy life among the nomadic tribe I saw as my family.

"Then one day an Evil came. Our people, we didn't even have a word for Evil. But there was no missing it. It came in the form of another nomadic peoples, a plague, like of human locusts. They descended upon us and slew us all, including myself. I died in my Father's arms, holding his cooling body as a blade slashed savagely through my back, and into his as well before stopping. That was the end of my life, and the begging of my hell.

"I awoke later, tied up in a tent. There was a man there. He raped me first thing. He would do that a lot over the next hundred years. We didn't share language, but he taught me his name that night. It was a name I came to hate, and to love, but mostly to despise. Methos.

There were gasps from both Patrick and Sally. Patrick actually looked over at Adam, his face again draining of blood, as he inched closer to Sally, and away from Adam, despite the fact that Sue was sitting between himself and Adam.

"I was held as a slave in the horsemen camp for as I said almost a hundred years. Throughout that time, I was the exclusive property of Methos. He was not a kind master. Sometimes he would be downright cruel. Yet, over time, I convinced myself he cared for me on some level for some reason, and I for him. Often I would see him fight. He was savage and vicious. He was not the leader of the Horsemen, that was Kronos. But he was the brains, and the soul of the group.

"Over time, the others apparently grew jealous of his refusal to share me, and one night, Kronos came and took me to his own tent while Methos was away. That was the last time I saw Methos for a long time. In Kronos's tent, I was able to use a small knife to kill Kronos, and run away. It was about a month later that Eadgils found me, wandering in Eastern Europe," Cassandra said, looking this time not at Adam, but at Eadgils instead.

"He knew." Adam said softly.

"Knew what?" Cassandra asked sharply, looking back at him.

"That you had killed Kronos and escaped. He even knew about the knife you used, he had known about it for a long time. I don't remember where I read it, but he once told someone that watching you flee into the night was the hardest thing he had ever done. He could have stopped you with a single word to the guards, but he didn't. He let you go. Take it for what it's worth."

Cassandra froze again, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, before she reached up and wiped it away. "You believe what you say. That Methos could have stopped me that night, but instead let me go. Why would y-he do that?"

"Perhaps he thought you would be better off on your own, away from the rest of the Horsemen. Away from Kronos, Caspian, and Silas. Perhaps even away from Methos. He was not a very nice person back then." Adam replied softly while setting some money down to cover the tab, and sliding out of the booth to stand.

"'Tis a good thing he is dead then." Sally said, picking up her PDA and saving Cassandra's story.

"He's not dead." Cassandra said.

Sally dropped the PDA onto an empty plate, splattering boysenberry syrup across the table with a soft 'ploptk'. "He's nae?"

Cassandra looked again at Adam, and said with a sly smile, "No. The other three horsemen, they are dead. Sally, remember when I went to find Duncan, and ended up in Bordeaux?"

"Yea. Neither Joe or I could get ta ye."

"Well, it was the Horsemen. Kronos was reuniting them after almost three thousand years. But he failed. Methos, Silas, Duncan, Kronos, and Caspian fought. Duncan killed two of them, and Methos killed the other one. I had a chance to kill Methos, but Duncan asked me to spare him, and I did. I am glad I did." She said, her eyes still locked on Adam's.

Finally, she stood up, releasing Sally, who retrieved her sticky PDA and tried wiping syrup off with a napkin, before heading for the door in Cassandra's wake. Adam continued to stand where he had risen at the other end of the table, until both Patrick and Eadgils scooted around to exit from Cassandra's side.

He was still standing there when Eadgils reached the door, and stepped outside into the late morning sunshine.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassandra was seated behind the wheel, with Sally in the passenger seat, and Patrick already stretched out lengthwise on the couch by the time Eadgils stepped into the Motor Home, having waited at the door until Adam finally emerged from the Denny's and started across the parking lot towards them.

Eadgils took one of the benches alongside the table, as Cassandra fired up the engine.

Finally, Adam climbed in, pulling the side door closed behind him. Cassandra put the motor home in reverse, and backed into the parking lot, then headed back out onto the street, heading back towards the highway.

Adam looked at Patrick, then looked at Eadgils, and at the back room of the motor home. He said, "Would you like to join me in back? This seems to be a day for stories, and I have one I promised to tell you, and you owe one to me as well, I think."

Eadgils looked at him and considered it. He was still not thrilled about the idea of hanging around with Death. But Sue's memories showed him as a decent person, and there were questions which needed answers. Finally, he nodded.

Adam made his way to the back, and Eadgils got up and followed him, steadying himself with his hands against the RV's movements as Cassandra pulled onto the highway and changed lanes.

Once in the back, he settled himself on the rear corner of the bed, while Adam settled himself against the window on the opposite side of the bed. "So, are you really Eadgils in there? Or is it Sue? Or both of you?" he opened.

"Eadgils, but Sue is here somewhere, I just can't reach her, other than in the Dreamscape." Eadgils answered.

"Dreamscape?" Adam queried.

"When we sleep, sometimes, we are somewhere. Wherever it is, it isn't real. But we are both there. We can talk, I was even able to teach her to fight."

"I tried. I taught her fencing. She was ok, but she lacked the spark, no fire, no drive. It was like she didn't really take it seriously." Adam answered, remembering. "Patrick said she killed Cassandra. I find that hard to believe. Was that you?"

Eadgils shook his head. "I know. You gave the girl a good foundation. But it took a long time to build on that foundation until she could take my head more often than not. One thing we learned in the dreamscape, if you take someone's head there, all it does is hurt."

"She can take your head? After three days?"

"Years. At least, it seemed like years. Time is different there. It is hard to explain. Anyhow, I had to teach her how to handle a Katana, and how to FIGHT with other blades. You never taught the girl how to even throw a blade. But we had the time. I practiced with her that second night, and again last night. She was able to take Cassandra after the second night. By now, she might even be able to take you." Eadgils added, with a slight edge in his voice.

"If she had to, that is good. Why do I feel like you want to take my head yourself? What have I ever done to you?" Adam asked.

"You killed me, and slaughtered my tribe. And later, I believe you killed my Teacher, Ralas."

Adam suddenly froze. Then he closed his eyes and sank back on the bed, until he was looking up at the ceiling.

"Ralas. Yes. I killed Ralas. I took his head, and he saved, or perhaps gave me my soul."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Eadgils asked angrily.

Adam continued to lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. After a moment he spoke.

"It was a few years after Cassandra had left. I was becoming restless, and perhaps even more vicious because of it. Perhaps not, I can think of things I did for fun long before that time in looking back now that were crueler than anything I did then, but none the less, I was no longer satisfied with simply torturing and killing the petty Mortals of this world.

"One day, an Immortal openly approached our camp, and he called Kronos out. But Kronos was not there at the moment. I was however. I approached him, and told him that by coming here, he was seeking death. When he agreed, I introduced myself, saying 'I am Death. You can face me now, and if by some chance you survive, you can face Kronos later.'

"Oddly enough, I was more than half hoping he would take my head. As I said, I was bored and tired of it all. And when we met, I learned that he was good. Perhaps he was even better than I was, at least in an honest fight. But I wasn't an honest man, and I fought dirty. For that matter, I still do. In the end, I caught him with a deceptive move, and knocked him to the ground, my blade taking his head with the next swing. And then the Quickening began.

"I was hit with more force than I had experienced since my first Quickening, almost two thousand years before. I was out for quite a while afterwards, and when I was finally able to rise, I was still a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Had one of my fellow horsemen attacked me at that point, I would have surely been killed without a fight. I made my way back to my tent, and went to sleep.

"My rest that night was anything but restful. I was visited by ghosts that night, for the first time in my memory. I saw the faces of the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of people I had coldly killed. And with each face, I felt a stab of pain at what I had done, and a bit of horror at what I had become. I awoke in the morning screaming. And with a new emotion in my mind; remorse. I had never felt remorseful before that day. Even when I let Cassandra go, I was more upset for my own impending loss, not sorry for how I had treated her. Until I took Ralas's head, all I was concerned about was me. But afterwards, I realized that the others, they felt the same things I did. They counted as well. And that realization was horrible.

"I left the Horsemen that afternoon. I simply took my horse, my sword, and a light pack of belongings and rode away. I did a lot of things in the next few years, including founding the Watchers, to keep an eye on my fellow Immortals. Not so I could hunt them, but more so I could avoid them, without having to hide on Holy Ground."

"So you started the Watchers? What about the Hunters? Did you start them as well?" Eadgils growled.

"No. They started themselves, after one of our fellow Immortals killed his Watcher, and his son decided to get revenge. Actually, this is the fourth outbreak of them. The past three times had always been contained. Twice I had to step in, like I am doing this time, and the third time, the Watchers managed to police themselves, using the mechanisms I had installed after the previous two occurrences. Since I did start the Watchers, however, and the Hunters are a splinter group from them, then I suppose you could lay the blame for their existence at my feet. Including the deaths of almost a dozen Immortals, including Darius. But they were not my intent at any time, and I have always done what I could to contain the damage caused."

"So, you are saying that the last three times Hunters sprouted from your child you were able to prune them back, what went wrong this time?"

"Technology. As you recall, it used to take weeks, if not months to send a letter across the ocean. Ideas could spread no faster than horseback. And areas were more or less isolated. When a pool of Watchers were contaminated by a desire to kill Immortals, they were separated by time and geography from the other Watchers. It gave myself and the Tribunals time to find out about them and take action before they could spread their attitudes to their fellows. The very cell structure I had set up after the second such outbreak also helped to isolate them. But now days, an email can cross the world in moments, and my very cell design works as well against discovery as it does to isolate contamination. And these days, with globe trotting Immortals, there is so much cross contamination between Watcher Cells anyhow; that the cell structure really doesn't work for them anymore, but it does work well for the Hunters. Almost too well." Adam replied sadly.

"So what are you, or the Watchers going to do?" Eadgils asked Adam.

"I don't know. I do think that the first step though is to break down the barriers between Watchers and the Immortals they watch. It is harder to dehumanize someone you know than something you study. Joe and Duncan, or the new relationship I see springing up between Sally and Cassandra, may be one defense. Adding a more aggressive Internal Affairs division may be another. I haven't quite figured out how to fix the problem this time. I certainly can't kill all the affected Watchers and replace their records with sanitized versions designed to delete the concept of hunting Immortals. That was what the Watchers did in India back in 1894, and while it worked for them there, that seemed a bit extreme to even myself. However that was the order of the Tribunal. Tribunals were one of my attempts to fix the problem back in 1629. While it worked, it had adverse effects on the Watchers themselves. But whatever it is, something must be done."

"1894, and 1629. When were the other 2 outbreaks?" Eadgils asked coldly.

"It would have been around 410 AD, for the first one. Three Immortals were killed, and I myself killed the two Watchers involved. Two of the Immortals may have deserved it, one was about as bad as we come, he caught and killed his Watcher, but the Watcher's brother was also a Watcher. He found out what had happened to his brother, and who had done it, and he wanted vengeance. He involved another Watcher who also had a scumbag for a subject, and they steered their Immortals together, setting them up so they would go after one another's heads. When the winner was still recovering, they took his head as well. If they had left it at that, and resigned, then I could have lived with it. But they then went hunting. They tracked down another Immortal, and simply took her head. She hadn't even been involved in a fight in over 400 years according to the records. But her Watcher saw them kill her, and sent in an urgent report. I myself responded, and I tracked down the pair, and killed them both.

"The second outbreak was in 1629, in Spain. I didn't find out about it for almost a year that time. In the meantime we lost track of seven Immortals, and five Watchers. Two Watchers were confirmed dead, but the others were just gone. I gathered three of the more senior Watchers, including one who knew who, and what I was. We went to Spain to investigate. Once there, we picked up the trail of another Immortal who was trying to find what had happened to his friend, one of the missing seven Immortals. Shortly after arriving in Segovia, his Watcher was attacked by three other Watchers. The three senior Watchers, and myself stepped in, and captured the three local Watchers. I must admit, the inquiry raised by the Watchers was more inline with the Spanish Inquisition than a modern police interrogation. They determined that the local Watchers had decided that Immortals were agents of the devil, and led by a local priest, they had set about to exterminate them, sacrificing them on Holy Ground, and burying the decapitated corpses in unconsecrated earth behind the church's grounds. The Watchers who disagreed with them, were buried in the regular cemetery.

While Adam was talking, the Motor Home had pulled over to the side of the road, and Cassandra had traded places with Sally, who had resumed driving, as Cassandra headed towards the bathroom just outside the rear bedroom.

"The Watchers cleaned their own house that time, although I assisted where I could. They called in assistance from several different areas, and went hunting the Hunters. They included the priest and the local bishop on their game list, because both were involved. Eventually though, they believed they had successfully cleaned house. Most of the local records had been destroyed, so the three senior Watchers went ahead and burned the rest of the records, along with what had been the local Watcher Headquarters to the ground. They established strict punishments for any Watcher who would so violate their oath as to harm an Immortal deliberately, noting how since Watchers swore their life, should they violate that oath, their life was the logical forfeit.

"That was the birth of the Tribunal system of Watcher Regulation. I think the time has come to modify that system somehow. But for the life of me I can't figure out what to do."

Cassandra emerged from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall, looking into the bedroom. "Methos, what exactly happened to you? You are not like the man I once knew, and yet you are still him in many ways."

"I told Eadgils when we came back here a couple of hours ago, but I guess I owe it to you to repeat myself. I killed Ralas. And his Quickening helped me to see the horror and futility of my actions. I hadn't understood what had happened myself back then. But about fifteen hundred years ago, I ran across Darius again, however he was no longer the war leader who I had met before."

"When had you met him before?" Cassandra asked.

"Summer of 410, in Rome. I met Alaric, Athaulf, and Darius, along with his assistant Grayson and Grayson's new student, Callestina. They were in the process of sacking Rome at the time. The whole band was very reminiscent of my days with the Horsemen. I tried to convince Callestina she would be better off with myself as a teacher, but she was in love with Darius and wouldn't leave him.

"The next time I came across him, it was in Paris, in 585, he was a priest living in the Basilica of St. Julien. The man I met that evening was as different as can be from the war leader I had met in Rome. I asked him what had happened, and he told me he and Grayson had marched on Paris, and there they had encountered a single Immortal, a holy man who set out unarmed to stop an Army, and much like Ralas and the horsemen, lost his head, yet met his goal. Darius took his head, and when he awoke, he was filled with such a different perspective that he dismissed Grayson and the army, and himself took up residence in Paris, later taking vows and becoming a Catholic Priest. Darius and I talked for hours that night. He called the event a Light Quickening."

Cassandra nodded, and turned back towards the front, saying over her shoulder, "We will need to talk later, Methos. I still have many questions, but I meant what I said this morning about being glad now that I spared your life, despite the misgivings I suffered afterwards."

=================== ====================

Eadgils watched as Cassandra made her way to the passenger seat, then glanced at Sue's watch. It was already well past 1 in the afternoon. He and Adam had been back here talking for over two hours, and he still hadn't gotten the answers he himself had wanted, specifically what was Adam's involvement in Sue's life. "So Adam, I know I'm not really Sue, but you promised to tell what you knew of her father, and your involvement in his life when you were not on the phone. Will you tell me?"

Adam looked at Eadgils again appraisingly, then nodded. "It was the second time I had been living in California under the name of Dr. Robert Helm. The first time had been back in 1820, when I met my sixty eighth wife, Maria Teresa Alvarado. It was kind of a private joke to use the same name and in a way it was also to honor poor Maria's memory."

"Sixty eighth?"

"Yes. She was a wonder. She could take me with a sword, she was so good. You may not believe it, but the Zorro legend, it's based on her. Gods, I miss that woman."

"You were married to Zorro?"

"No, I was married to Maria Teresa Alvarado, but she was a fighter against the Spanish oppression in California in the early 1800's. She drove the local government's corrupt officials insane, because they couldn't believe a woman could best them, and at the same time they couldn't even figure out who she was. Over time, the legend became one of a man they could neither identify, best, or catch. That was the core of the Legend Of Zorro. But Maria, she was all woman, trust me.

"But that was almost two hundred years ago. This time it was the early 1980's, and I was working at Memorial Hospital, in Gardena California. I was working as a General Practitioner, but two days a week I also covered the Emergency room and Trauma Center. It was a small hospital, only about 175 beds, and the work was interesting, and made me feel good. Trust me, finding something interesting to do that gives you a worthwhile feeling is one of the most important things in the world."

"Um, Methos, I WAS almost four thousand years old, I knew that. Sue may be but a youngling, but I well know how boring it can be to live a life without purpose. I learned that long ago."

"Sorry. I forgot, I keep looking at you, and I see Sue. Damn, I hope she doesn't end up like Rojor did. I'd never forgive myself. It's my fault she was a Watcher, you know. As I said, I was working at Memorial, but during the rest of the week, I was in private practice. I had an office in the Medical Center across the street. Two of my patients were Peter Danning, and his young, pretty, and very pregnant wife Shelly."

"Sue's parents." Eadgils said, an image of Sue's dad floating in his mind's eye, along with that of a picture of a pretty redheaded young woman smiling from the mantle place in the living room.

"Yes. Peter and I were friends. He had no idea I knew about Immortals, or the Watchers. He claimed he was a courier, but I knew his tattoo. It was like a joke to me, that he was one of the senior Watchers in the Los Angeles area, and I, the oldest known Immortal was his physician, and friend. And he never suspected me. Not even afterwards.

"His wife was due any week, and he was looking forward to meeting his son. Even though they hadn't wanted to hear the results of the tests, he was certain he was going to have a boy. It was one of the things we would joke about. Every week I would give him and his wife a wrapped box, with some clothes for the future Danning baby. And they would stack it into the pyramid in the baby's room, which he had painted a pretty sky blue. And only I knew that the boxes were all little frilly dresses, or shirts with butterflies and flowers. Of course, he thought they were baby sized baseball uniforms, or little boy shirts and pants. He pictured blue shoes, to match the walls, not pink ones.

"He doted on Shelly. It would be fair to say she was his life, and the greatest joy of it was the gift of the new Son she would be giving him. The living symbol of their marriage made flesh, as he once told me.

"One evening, as I was making my rounds before starting my shift I the Emergency ward, I felt the tingle of a pre-Immortal. I was in the nursery, and there, amongst all the other babies, was a genuine 'Jane Doe'. Her mother had apparently abandoned her in the dumpster behind the hospital earlier that evening, and walked away. I knew the truth was probably much stranger, but even I have no idea where we come from. I gave up trying to figure out long ago.

"It was that night as I was covering the Emergency patients, putting casts on broken bones, and sewing stitches in gashes and cuts that an ambulance rolled in. Trauma case, a car crash with a pregnant woman. The woman was bleeding badly and the ambulance people didn't expect her to make it to the hospital even, but they were hoping to save the baby.

"Imagine my horror when they rolled Shelly into the Trauma center. She was bad. It really was a miracle that she had made it this far. But she was alive. And awake. She looked into my eyes, and said her last words. 'Save the baby, Please Rob, for Pete. I don't think I will make it, and he...' she died. Just like that, her last words never finished.

"I did an immediate emergency c-section, to try and excise the baby, but it was too late. Probably it had been too late in the ambulance. There wasn't anything wrong with her, not a bruise on her, but all the same, she was dead. And, I realized so was Pete's life. He had just lost his wife, his daughter, and his future, all in one swoop. I knew what Shelly had been trying to say, what her last words would have been, I could hear her voice in my head, haunting me, '...and he needs something to live for.' Because, Shelly was Pete's life. She was his universe. And without anything else, anything more, he might well just give up and die. I had seen it before.

"There was one other person in the room with me, Nurse Hammond. She and I had dated off-and-on a couple of times, once we even had dinner with Pete and Shelly. She looked at me, tears coming from her eyes, and said, 'It's ok, Rob. There wasn't anything more you could have done. You can't blame yourself.'

"I looked again at Shelly, and at the still form of the baby in the bassinette. And I came to a decision. I looked up at Kelly, and I said, 'There is one thing. It is wrong, and illegal, but in this case.'

"She didn't understand me, 'What are you saying? What more can you do?'

"I then told her, 'There's a Jane Doe, up in the nursery. Someone abandoned her outside just this evening. I know, it's wrong, and as I said, certainly illegal, but, what if Baby Doe were to die, and Baby Danning went home with Pete?'

"Kelly looked at me, and at the dead baby, and her mother. She looked again at the baby, then she looked up into my eyes, and said, 'What if the baby's mother comes back?'

"I knew that wouldn't happen, but there was no way I could explain my reasoning to Kelly. Instead, I told her. 'Then she will be given the sad news that by dumping a new born baby in a trashcan outside at night in April, that she killed her daughter. I would rather give a man I know would make a good loving father a reason to live, than return a baby to a woman who could throw a child away like it was a piece of un-needed furniture. I know it is illegal, but I can't do it without your help. You know Pete, remember when we met them?' I asked, looking again at Shelly's still form.

"'Yes', she said, her eyes following mine. 'I remember. And I remember how much he doted on Shelly, and couldn't stop talking about the baby. I remember.'

"'Well?', I asked her.

"There was silence for a long time. I could hear the water drip in the sink, and the sweep hand click on the clock over the door, the one by which I would have to record the time of death, or falsify the time of birth. Finally, she looked away from Shelly, and again met my eyes, avoiding looking at the bassinette. 'Ok' she said faintly, then with more volume she went on, 'How can we switch them?'

"I thought about it for a moment, then I pulled out the paperwork, and marked down the time of death for Sally, setting it five minutes from the current time. I took the dead baby, and cut and tied off the chord, then wiped off the fluids, washing the tiny, still warm body in the sink until it was clean. She would have been a beautiful baby.

"We took her body, and wrapped it up in a blanket, then Kelly proceeded me out of the Trauma room, and into the hallway. We made our way to the elevator, and up to Maternity on the second floor. Kelly then headed in to talk to Nurse Jacobson, the Nurse in charge of the Nursery, while I made my way down the rows of babies, stopping before Baby Doe. With a glance to insure Nurse Jacobson was thoroughly distracted by Kelly, I quickly picked up Baby Doe, pulled her ID bracelet off, and slipped it over the still arm of the dead infant. I then cradled Baby Doe in one arm, and arranged the body in the crib, so it looked like it was sleeping. Another glance at the desk to insure that Nurse Jacobson was still distracted, and I slipped out the door, and back to the elevator.

"I carried Baby Doe back into the Trauma room, and proceeded to weigh her, recording her stats, hand, and feet prints for posterity, as the child of Peter and Shelly Danning, born at 10:28pm, on April 14th, 1984."

"You swapped babies, traded lives with the dead infant and the baby pre-Immortal?" Eadgils asked

"Yes. And it was worth it. Pete showed up at a bit before three that morning. I had to tell him about Shelly. 'I'm sorry Pete. She was dying when she came in, there was nothing I, or anyone could have done. Her last words, were about you, and the baby.'

"Pete collapsed into one of the yellow plastic chairs. 'Dead?' was all he said, his face crumpling, and tears welling from his eyes.

"'Yes, I'm so sorry.' I told him.

"'What, what about my son, the baby?' he asked, sobbing.

"Kelly had headed up to Maternity as soon as Pete had some in, and I saw her coming out the doors from the elevator even as he asked that, a squirming bundle in her arms. I looked back at him, and smiled, and said, 'Well, there is a slight complication there'

"He shuddered, and looked up at me longingly. If I had any doubt about what we had done, it fled in that instant, and I think Kelly would agree. Later she hit me for being mean to him then, and she hit me HARD! I looked over and waved Kelly forward with her burden, and told him. 'SHE's just fine, but I somehow don't think Jacob will be a very good name for HER.'

"Kelly gently placed the baby in his arms, and he looked into her small face in wonder, then he looked up at me and said, 'She, she's got her mother's eyes.' And you know what? She DID have the same light green, almost gray eyes as Shelly had had.

"Kelly looked over at me sharply, and I just shrugged. A few months later, when Kelly and I were out on another date, she opined that perhaps it was meant to be. That somehow God, or an Angel or someone had sent Baby Doe that evening specifically for Pete. I agreed with her, and I still do. There are greater forces than Man at work in the world, I have seen them myself, and I know it's true."

"What happened to the real baby?" Eadgils asked.

"The morning nurse found her dead at the start of the shift. The body was cold, and stiff. Since she had been left outside for an unknown amount of time, and had no real identity, there was no autopsy done, it was ruled natural causes, possibly aggravated by exposure. The mother could have been charged with the death, had she later turned up, but no one really looked. I made arrangements for her to be buried with her real mother though. I had to pay off the mortuary, to let me slip her into the coffin with Shelly, but it makes me happier to think of them still together."

The RV had pulled off the highway again, and was now driving on surface streets, somewhere. Eadgils told Adam, "I'm not sure if you did the right thing or not, or what Sue will think of this, but at least it answers several questions I had. Thanks Adam."

Eadgils climbed off the bed where he realized had been sitting for almost four hours, and headed towards the front, where he pulled Patrick's feet off the couch, dropped them on the floor, and sat down where they had been. "Thanks Patrick." He said.

Turning to Sally, he asked the back of her head, "Where we at?"

Sally turned left, onto another street, and answered, "Someplace called Hydro Oklahoma. I'm hungry, and so were Cassandra and Patrick, so we are following a billboard to someplace called the Graffiti Grill."

Patrick spoke up from beside her, where he was now sitting up, "It said they had pizza, sandwiches and homemade desserts. The picture looked downright tasty."

"Ok. I suppose I could stand to eat before it's my turn to drive." Eadgils said, looking back as Adam came up and sat at the table across from him.

Patrick looked nervously at Adam, as Sally pulled off the road and into a parking lot.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

They piled out of the Motor Home, and straggled into the classic Route 66 dinner.

Obtaining a table, they were seated, and put their orders in.

Finally, Patrick spoke, "Cassandra?"

"Yes, Youngling?"

"What makes you a witch?"

Adam interrupted at that point, "It's obvious, Patrick. She weighs the same as a duck."

Cassandra rolled her eyes and Sally snorted, then coughed, as she had been taking a sip of water when Adam spoke.

"A duck?" Patrick asked, looking over at Cassandra, then back at Adam.

Sally was grinning now as she answered. "A Duck. It is quite logical, you know. Witches burn. So does wood. Wood floats, and so do Ducks, so if she is a witch, then she must weigh the same as a Duck. Put her and a duck on a balance scale, and if it stays level, then she's a witch."

Cassandra was now looking askance at Sally. Patrick was still staring at Cassandra, as the food came.

Finally, after eating half of her sandwich, and noticing Patrick hadn't touched the pizza before him, she spoke, "It is not my weight, Youngling. Though at times I wish I was as light as a Duck. It is my Avocation, and partly my religion, though I am no more a Wiccan than I am a Christian."

"What do you mean?" he asked, finally moving towards his food.

"When I was young, I was trained to be a Healer. In those days, the Healer was not a doctor, though that was one of her primary tasks. She was also the equivalent of the wise-woman, shaman, or priestess. We didn't have any Gods we worshiped, though we acknowledged the existence of forces far greater than ourselves. But my learning was to study things as different, yet intertwined as what today is called Psychology, Biology, and parapsychology. Reading of emotions was a Talent I was given. Reading of minds is also possible, though not in the look into someone's eyes and listen to their words in your head as they are thinking, much of thought is in images not words, and an even greater part is in neither.

"But I was taught how to meditate, and in such a meditation, to bring my mind into congruence with that of another, allowing our thoughts to flow together, as essentially one mind. There were other techniques I learned, such as The Voice, a particular way of both speaking and thinking which can compel others. Then there was the Herbal Lore. Which plants did what, and how to use combinations of them to do anything from cure diseases to making people sleep, to killing or causing injury.

"I learned how to do all these things, and to touch my own spirit, and the spirits of the world around me. 'Mother Earth' or 'Gaia' as some would call it. I learned the ways of the spirit world, and some of the beings which inhabit it. Some are called Gods or Demons by various peoples. Ghosts, fairies, sprites. I learned what our people knew of them all, how to contact them, to bargain with them, to fight them if need be.

"When I was first living in Donan Wood, and the local people came across me, they found I was a healer. They were very happy to have someone knowledgeable in the arts living near by. But as the years passed, and they noticed I was not aging they began to fear my power. As Christianity came to the area, I was considered a Witch, and given the title, 'Witch Of Donan Wood', not as an honor, but to brand me as an evil to be frightened of. But I took their title, and I made it my name. Never did I cause harm, save to those who came to cause me harm themselves. When once a party came to burn me, for example, I admit I sprayed powdered pepper into the mob, blinding their eyes, and putting a stop to the whole lot of them. But I also led them back to the village one at a time, and washed their eyes out. That was the only time a concerted effort to 'deal with the witch' was made.

"Eventually, they came to accept me. These days I am a local legend, not really believed in by anyone who knows better. Sometimes one or two people will seek me out, ask me to help in some way, or to place a curse on someone. Those seeking curses, I simply send away, but those seeking aid I do my best for. My cottage is on Holy Ground, a blessed circle, so I need not worry for my head at home, and the woods are familiar to me now, after over a thousand summers and winters. Donan Wood is my home, and Witch is my title. Does that answer your question, Youngling?"

"Yes. I suppose so."

"Was there something else?" she asked.

"My, well, the Curse you said I have. What is it?"

"I mentioned the beings who live in the sprit realm? Someone has marked you. They have made a deal, or in some way compelled some of the nastier beings to cause you harm. It has more the feel of a voodoo curse, which is based on a bargain or an exchange, then a Gypsy curse, which is a compulsion, done as a favor for the cursor."

"So, someone asked these spirit thingies to kill me?"

"No, Youngling, far worse than that. They asked them to destroy you, and THEN kill you. Which they have done. I am wondering if the entities are starting to regret their pact yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it takes energy for them to affect the physical world. For them to influence events requires an effort. The amount of effort and energy depends on the type and amount of influence they exert. Beings like these, call them Loa, they will strike a bargain for some amount of energy, or something else they want, and in exchange they will accomplish a task. Usually, the payment they demand is based on the effort they will have to expend. A small life-force, in exchange for pushing someone at the right time to make the fall down some stairs, for example."

"So?"

"So, after they finished destroying you, they were supposed to kill you. Which they did. But, unfortunately for all the other parties involved, you didn't quite stay dead, now did you?"

"You mean, because I'm Immortal?"

"Yes. Tell me, how many times have you died in the past few days?"

Patrick flushed red. In the ensuing silence, Eadgils offered a reply for him, "He was shot, fell down the stairs, was electrocuted, and pounded by a pole. Four times."

Patrick shook his head, "No. Six times. I drowned in the bathtub last night, and slipped in the shower this morning on a bar of soap."

Cassandra nodded. "So, what they bargained to do, and thought would be done by now, they have had to go back, at least five more times to do the dead, and STILL you walk the earth. I think by now they are getting pretty upset with whoever commissioned them for this task."

"So, what happens? Do I just keep getting killed for the rest of my life?" Patrick asked.

"No, Youngling. I must find these entities and 'Call off the hit' so to speak. If they learn that they have been set an impossible task, they may well turn on the one who set them to it instead. Or, perhaps I can simply persuade them that they DID accomplish their task, that of making you die. That all the extra effort they have expended since then is just a waste of time and energy on their part, and they may as well report back, 'mission accomplished'. It really depends on which specific spirits, and types of spirits are after you, and who and how they were commissioned to this task."

"So, you can stop it, sometime soon?" Patrick asked. "'Cause I'm really getting tired of dyin'."

Standing up from the table, with the check in hand, she replied, "I can try, Youngling. I can try."

The rest of the party shuffled out to the RV while Cassandra paid the bill, and Eadgils settled in behind the steering wheel to take his turn at driving.

Once Cassandra had joined them in the car, Adam in the Passenger seat, Patrick and Sally on the couch, and Cassandra sitting at the table, Eadgils fired up the engine, and made his way back to highway 40, west.

He drove on into the afternoon, crossing the border into Texas, and finally pulling over in Shamrock for Gas, and to trade places with Adam.

Once the tanks were refilled, for the rock-bottom cost of only $145, Adam pulled them back out on the road, and headed off into the sunset, then the night beyond, finally coming to a stop at a Howard Johnson's in Amarillo Texas for the night at eight thirty that evening.

Everyone headed into the hotel, where Eadgils was again able to get a separate, but connected room for himself and Patrick, while Adam, Cassandra, and Sally were able to get their own rooms as well.

Eadgils carried in his laptop, which he hooked up, dialing in to check on his various accounts, and send messages to his various trustees to let them know he was still around, something he found ironic considering the fact that he was really already dead, and likely buried by now.

After a quick shower, he lay back on the bed, watching TV, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

========================== ==========================

Sue comes to grips with the realizations spawned by the revelations in the last chapter, and Cassandra tries to teach her some new tricks.

Act II
Road Trip

Chapter Twenty
Regrets And Memories
by Dana Short

Sue was crying softly as she sat in her old bedroom. The sky blue walls were covered here and there with boy-band posters, and other posters and pictures of interest to her from when she was growing up. Outside, a gentle rain was falling, punctuated occasionally by distant thunder.

Eadgils knocked on the door, and poked his head inside. "Sue?"

She looked up and nodded, motioning to a spot beside her on the bed.

Eadgils took a seat beside the quietly crying Sue, and reached an arm around her, offering a hug.

"He, he really wasn't my Dad, was he?"

"Of course he was. Sue, when you were little, who held you when you were scared, who bandaged your wounds? Who taught you the ways of the world, protecting you all the time, wasn't it your Father?"

Sue nodded. "Yes."

"Then he was as much your father as if you had sprung from his loins."

"But, it, It was a lie. I really wasn't his daughter. She died, with her mother."

"Sue, in my life I have seen many wonders, and many mysteries. Where we come from is one I have never heard of being answered, and trust me, many of us have tried to find our origins. But there ARE powers in this world greater than ourselves. I can easily believe that we do not come without a purpose. Tell me, Girl, what would have happened to your father had Methos not acted as he did?"

"He would have been alone."

"Exactly. Even had he known your origin, do you really think he would have loved you any less?"

"I, I don't know. He might have. Especially if he knew what I was."

"Really? Do you in your heart, where you keep his memory, truly believe that?"

Sue took a deep breath then let it out again, reaching up to wipe the tears out of her eyes. Finally she said in a small voice, "No."

"Then in every way that counts, he was your Dad. He loved you, and you him. That is the secret of a family, not the genes or blood; it is the love that ties people together. Cherish your memories of your father, and the stories he told you of your mother as well, for she certainly would have loved you as well. Besides, as Adam said, you have her eyes. Who is to say that somehow, you aren't truly the child born of their love. No one knows how we come to be; perhaps some power, seeking to save you from the accident, acted in some way we can never know? It makes as much sense as anything else."

"I suppose. It is possible, as much as anything else, I mean. At least I can believe it, because even though I never met her, it would hurt to lose my mother as well."

"Then don't lose her. Keep her in your heart, along with your father. That way, they can be together, for eternity."

"Yes. Thank you Ed." Sue said, sitting up straighter finally.

"You are welcome. I'll leave you alone, for a while. I'm sure you can find me if you need me."

Eadgils got up, and walked out of the room, as a ray of sunlight came through the window, and a bird began to sing in the yard outside.

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Eadgils sat in the Dojo of the Mind, his sword across his lap, and he contemplated both his current situation, and the stories he had heard that day from Adam/Methos/Death. Perhaps not Death, the man he had met today was not the person Cassandra had told him of all those years ago. Death would not have risked anything to swap out a dead baby for a live one to help a mortal for any reason. Death would never of spent time training Sue in the use of the foil. Death surely wouldn't have traveled all this way just to check on some potential Immortal, and make sure they were all right. He would have killed them long ago, and taken their head.

Based on his own experience with Darius, both before and after his 'Conversion', Eadgils could understand how the death of his Teacher could have so completely altered Death. To some extent, he wondered, was Ralas still around, inside Methos, acting as a conscience, much like he was haunting Sue's mind? On one level, he would like to believe so.

Eadgils rose at a sound behind him, and turned around, expecting to see Sue. The image of Cassandra standing before the open, uncivilized eastern European plains of millennia past surprised him. "Cassi?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Eadgils. Where is the child?"

"Last I saw her, she was in her room" he replied with a grin for his old student and lover.

"Her room?"

"Yes. She was still adjusting to what Methos told me today."

"What was that?"

"The story of how a Dr. Robert Helm came to switch the stillborn corpse for a newly found Immortal infant, to give a man who had just lost everything something to live for."

"How did he know about this, was it in a Chronicle?"

"No, Methos WAS Dr. Robert Helm before he joined the Watchers as Adam Pierson ten years ago. Quite a change from the Death we knew here." Eadgils said, sweeping a hand across the open expanse, light now by the afterglow of a recently set sun, the plants disturbed occasionally by the drifting breeze.

"I would say so. He does seem different. I understand now why Duncan asked me to spare him."

"Did you know him well, this Duncan?"

"He still lives. Duncan MacLeod can be found in Paris, or in Seacouver, depending on the season."

"I never met him. I crossed paths once with Connor, but never with Duncan. Probably for the best; despite his protests, I still think he has to be some sort of really clever Headhunter. Instead of going looking, they come to him. I have heard of too many Immortals losing their heads around him to ever feel comfortable."

"Duncan is a good man, Eadgils. He has honor, and will only fight when challenged, or to defend others. It is his reputation which draws the Headhunters to him, no deliberate act of his own. He even changes addresses fairly often, just to try and find some peace."

"If you say so, Cassi, I will believe you. You said you knew him as a child, so perhaps you are not the best judge; but he seems to be friends of friends of Sue, so he may not be bad after all. Who knows, if Methos, the Pale Rider himself can change from being a sociopathic killer, to a man worthy of friendship and trust, then anything is possible."

"I don't know yet that Methos, or Adam is worthy of the trust others place in him, but from what I have seen, I think I am willing to give him a chance. I hadn't considered it at the time when I was standing over him with an Ax in Bordeaux a few years ago, but he could have killed me in Seacouver, or let Silas kill me in Bordeaux, yet both times he acted to save my life. He even told me I should not blame myself for having thought I felt something for him, he even reminded me of the Stockholm syndrome, where prisoners come to associate with their captors. It was like he wanted to help me heal my wounds. And as I stood over him, he himself made no plea for his life; he just knelt at my feet, awaiting my judgment and sentence. It was after I had returned home to Glenfinnan that I was able to reflect on things more rationally, and I realized he may have WANTED me to kill him. I realized that by letting him keep his head, I may have been punishing him even more."

"I don't claim to understand, but I do think you are different yourself from the woman I knew three thousand years ago. She was cold, and haughty. She hid herself behind a shield of self importance, and she almost never laughed or smiled. I have seen you do both. The Cassandra I knew would have killed Methos for making a joke at her expense at dinner last night, but you, you almost played along."

"I think I have changed. I hope I have. A life lived for vengeance is not a life lived at all. Duncan told me that once, after Bordeaux."

"Great wisdom for one so young," Eadgils said, giving Cassandra a hug.

"It is so good to find you again, Larar."

"No one has called me Teacher in the old tongue for thousands of years, Cassi."

"You should teach it to your student."

"Sue can not be my student, Cassi. I am dead."

"You seem pretty active for a ghost." Cassandra said smiling up at him.

"But that is all I may be. That or a demon, possessing this poor young girl's body."

"You're not a demon," came Sue's voice from behind them on the hill, as she walked through the soft grass, climbing to join them at the top of the gentle slope they realized they had been standing on for some unknown time.

"How do you know what I am? Methos's story showed what happened the last time, insanity and death. Why that hasn't happened to you yet, I have no idea, but my fear is that it is only a matter of time."

"What you are Eadgils, is my friend, and my teacher. De bent Eadgils, Larar duen mi."

Eadgils stood in shock as Cassandra giggled at the ancient title falling casually from Sue's lips.

"I guess you don't have to teach her the old tongue after all," Cassandra said.

Sue looked at Cassandra and asked her, "What language is that, anyhow? It sounds like German, but it isn't."

"It had no name. It was a mixture of many different languages, some of which later evolved to Latin, Greek, even German, English, and French have echoes of it today." Cassandra replied.

"How do I know how to speak it? I never even heard it before Cassandra called you 'Larar'," Sue asked, diverting the subject slightly.

Eadgils tried to explain, "I'm not sure. It could be because the information, like everything else I know or remember, is actually inside your head, you just need to figure out how to access it. I know when I'm awake, I know things only you could have known, almost like an echo of you from the back of my mind. When you're awake, it's more like I'm just watching a movie or something. I know what's going on; I can see and hear everything you do, but I can't do anything. I've even tried to shout at you at times, but you never seem to hear me."

"I never shout at you. I don't seem to be able to even think when you are awake. For me it is like I just wake up, remembering what you did as though I was the one who did it, but I wasn't really there at the time at all. Does that make any sense?" Sue asked in confusion.

Eadgils looked to Cassandra then back to Sue. "Not to me. Cassi, do you have any ideas?"

Cassandra looked over at both Sue and Eadgils, then slowly shook her head. "I've never heard of an intermingling of minds and souls like this before. About the closest similarity I have ever heard of would be a Possession, although I never personally encountered one of those. I do know this though, when I first met Sue, she had the Quickening of a newly awakened Immortal. When I felt Eadgils yesterday, the Quickening was significantly stronger. That's another development I've never heard of before. I leaned long ago the basics of sensing, focusing, and shaping my Quickening, I taught the basics of those skills to Eadgils even as I figured them out myself back then. But I have never been able to suppress or hide it, and that would be a useful skill, if I had any idea how such a feat could be accomplished.

Cassandra shrugged and went on, "Since your Quickening seems to change, you are either doing so subconsciously, or you are truly two separate people in a single body somehow. If that is the case, one explanation could lead from the fact that this is Sue's actual body. Perhaps since her memories are native to it, Eadgils can read them, but since Eadgils's memories are not native to the body, they are only slowly seeping into the shared brain for Sue to access. As for why Eadgils can view Sue's waking hours, but Sue can only remember them, I am not sure. I would almost expect it to be the other way around, and it makes no sense to me. Then again, I don't even understand how I can be here, wherever this is. I'm not a Dreamwalker, yet somehow I have ended up here twice now."

"So neither one of you have any answers. Great!" Sue grumped, sitting on the mat in the Dojo, and laying her Katana across her lap.

Cassandra looked down as she realized she was now holding her own blade casually in her right hand, and Eadgils was holding his as well as he stood beside her on the mat. She looked around at the dojo which had reappeared as suddenly and unnoticeably as it had vanished when Sue showed up. "Does this happen often?" she asked Eadgils.

"More than you even notice, around here. I tend not to pay attention anymore, myself."

Cassandra looked again at her blade, then at Eadgils's, and grinned. "So, mein Larar, shall we spar?"

Eadgils nodded slowly. "It has been a long time."

Eadgils and Cassandra took up positions on the mat well away from where Sue sat watching them, and began to fight.

Cassandra noted that she did not seem to tire, that when she was cut, she did not bleed, but that it did hurt. Especially when Eadgils suddenly stepped in and moved in a way which seemed impossible, and his heavy blade sliced swiftly through her neck, in what she was positive was a terminal blow. Yet aside from the pain throughout her neck, there was no apparent damage. "That was, interesting." Cassandra said.

"Yes. You should have seen me the first time Sue did that to me here, when I was training her in handling the katana instead of a foil. It was the second time I expected everything to be over, and nothing happened. But it simplified training. She didn't have to pull her blows, and I could train her reflexes until she took the swings without hesitation. The girl is good, and she tends to 'kill' me more often than I do her anymore."

"How long - how long did you spend training her?"

"Only night before you fought her the other day, but time is different here. I don't know if you have noticed it yet or not, but we could stay here fighting for hundreds of hours, and never tire. While I've only had two nights to work with her here, if it was in the real world, it would have been several years of lessons. I think I have spent more time sparring with her here than I did with you those first hundred years."

Cassandra looked speculatively at the girl sitting on the mat, the katana cradled in her lap, then nodded. "She fought well when I tested her. I was shocked; I expected an easy victory so I could show the upstart child just how much she needed my help; instead I awoke on the floor, killed by a blow I hadn't expected, from a blade I had barely had a chance to see."

"I taught her that trick," Eadgils affirmed.

"It was not the only one she used in that fight. As I said, I was shocked by her skills. I was almost more shocked to see Methos's moves from her. But if you had long enough here to train her, added to what her 'Adam' showed her before she first died, it makes sense that I underestimated her. My ego is no longer quite as bruised."

"You should work with her though, I am sure there are things she could learn from you I would never know to teach her. Would you mind?" Eadgils asked.

Cassandra looked at Sue, who looked back at her silently from her seat on the floor.

"I would not mind, but would she learn, that is the question. The child told me in no uncertain terms she didn't need me as a Teacher."

Sue finally spoke from her position on the floor. "I'm sorry, Cassandra. I already apologized to Eadgils last night for how I had behaved towards him the night before we met. I think my bad mood carried over to you as well. I had been feeling more than a bit out of control with my life at the time, and I was rude at best. Please, forgive me for my attitude towards you. If you are willing to help teach me, I am more than willing to learn."

Cassandra looked thoughtfully at the girl seated at her feet, then looked back at Eadgils, and finally nodded. "Ok. Stand up, and let me take your measure again. I will see what I can teach you of fighting. Then, if we still have time, we will start on seeing what, if anything I can show you of using your own mind."

As Sue stood up and faced Cassandra, Eadgils grinned and slipped back into the shadows of the Dojo of the Mind, where he could watch his two students meet one another in combat, his first and his last.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sue sat before the campfire on the plains, listening to the voice of Cassandra speaking softly in her ears, and tried to visualize her Quickening as a field spreading out from her body. Eadgils had slipped away sometime after Cassandra had tired of sparring endlessly with Sue, stating that it was time to teach her other things. Things more difficult than merely hacking and slashing with a metal blade.

Sue was having little luck with sensing her Quickening though, and as she tried it occurred to her that perhaps this was not a lesson which could be learned here. She had not felt Cassandra's approach here, nor had she ever felt Eadgils's. "Cassandra?" she asked finally.

"I told you to be still, Child. You will never be able to feel your field if you keep interrupting instead of meditating."

"I am sorry, Larar. But I had a question. Can you feel your Quickening here?"

Cassandra was silent for a long time, only the crackling of the fire and the stirring of the soft winds disturbing the night. Finally she spoke in a soft voice, "No. I can't."

"Then perhaps I am not such a total failure after all," Sue said, sitting up and looking across the flames at the woman seated there. "This might not be something I can learn, here. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"It was not necessarily a waste, Child. Perhaps in the daytime, when you are moving around in the real world, you can try to apply these techniques I have tried to teach you this evening. It may be that this time we have spent fruitlessly will instead have been little more than an investment. You seem to understand the principles, it is the applications you fail at, and if that's because this realm causes you to fail, then you may well have learned what I tried to teach, if you applied it in the waking world."

Sue nodded, and was about to answer when a distant alarm bell began to jangle.

Cassandra looked around in surprise, asking, "Do you hear that sound? It sounds familiar."

Sue nodded, and said "I think I know what it is, this has happened before now." Even as the fire faded, letting the darkness close in while the distant bell grew louder and louder.

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