========================================================================= Date: Sun, 14 Apr 1996 19:07:00 PDT Reply-To: Mike Goldman Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Goldman Subject: "A Dangerous Game" (6/22) HL Story "Suddenly uncontrolled, something is taking hold..." Joe drove home slowly, his mind filled with questions about Rory and her behavior. However, if she noticed his unusual silence, she didn't say anything during the drive. After sitting through what, to Joe, seemed to be several interminable stop lights, they finally arrived home. Getting out of the car, they walked into the house, Joe's cane tapping on the hardwood floor of the entry. "I've got to get this taste out of my mouth." said Rory, heading for the kitchen, "Do you want anything?" "No, thanks," Joe headed into his study, the tapping of his cane silenced by the thick carpet. Once inside, he shut the door partway and headed over to the bookshelves, scanning them carefully. After a few moments, he pulled out a slim leather-bound volume with the distinctive Watcher symbol on the cover. Gripping the book in his free hand, he made his way over to his desk and sat down, flipping the power switch on the computer to the "on" position. As he waited for the program to boot up, he began flipping through the pages of the Chronicle. "Joe?" Guiltily, he looked up to see Rory standing in the doorway. He smiled at her and motioned for her to come in. As she crossed the room, he quickly shut the Chronicle and minimized the program on the computer screen. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You coming to bed?" "In a little while." he responded. "Watcher business?" "Um-hmmm"." he answered noncomittally. "OK." She gave him a brief hug, kissed his cheek and left the room. Joe sighed and maximized the program. "Hey." came her voice again. Joe started in spite of himself. "Don't stay up too late, OK?" Rory admonished. "You know you're a grouch in the morning if you don't sleep well." She winked and left, shutting the door behind her as Joe bent industriously to his task. Hours later, he slammed the Chronicle shut and turned the computer off in disgust. There was so little information to go on! he told himself, . Getting up from his chair, he groaned as his stiff back muscles protested the movement after spending several hours in one position. He rolled his shoulders to try and ease the tense muscles, then walked over to the bookshelf and replaced the Chronicle. Sighing again, he turned out the all the downstairs lights except the staircase light and went upstairs. He entered the bedroom quietly, the light from the staircase falling on Rory's face. Standing there gazing at her, he wondered not for the first time what had made a woman like this fall in love with him. "Joe, what are you doin'?" Rory asked, squinting her eyes against the dim light. "I'm sorry." he said. Shutting off the light, he entered the bedroom, automatically feeling his way to his side of the bed. He sat down and began to undress. "What were you doin'?" she asked again. Joe pulled off his T-shirt and sat there in the dark for a moment. "Just wondering how I got so lucky to have someone like you in love with me." " 'Twas not all that hard." she responded, laughing softly. "Come to bed, love." Joe finished undressing, took off his prostheses and slid into bed beside Rory, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her shoulder. She snuggled up closer to him. "That's nice." she murmured. "How's that?" he asked, kissing her neck. "Even better." she rolled over and faced him. "Care to try again?" It was obvious to both of them what the answer was. Afterwards, they lay close together, Rory's head on Joe's chest, her breathing regular and deep. Joe lay awake for a few moments more, then shoved all thoughts of Rory's odd behavior out of his mind and closed his eyes. Some time later, he woke up with the disoriented feeling that comes with not quite enough sleep. Slowly, he realized he was alone in the bed and, rubbing his eyes, he raised himself up a bit and saw Rory, fully dressed, leaning against the sliding glass door. The sun was just starting to make itself seen and she had one hand stretched out in front of her and was turning it back and forth as if she'd never seen it before. "Rory?" he mumbled, "what are you doing?" He glanced at the digital clock. "It's 4:45 in the morning." She glanced at him. "Too much to do." she said shortly. Joe thought that was a bit odd but, as his brain was still fuzzy from only a few hours sleep, he couldn't quite pin down exactly *why* he thought it was odd. "Go back to sleep, Joseph. Everything's just fine." That undefinable *something* still nagging at the back of his brain, Joe laid back down and closed his eyes. Dimly, he heard the bedroom door open and close. Then, in the midst of trying to puzzle out what he felt was wrong, he fell back asleep. He woke with a start some hours later. He knew what was wrong now--Rory's accent had disappeared! Instead of the soft, musical, lilt he normally associated with her voice, he now realized that her accent was much more clipped and hard, the cadence different. He quickly sat up, strapped on his prostheses and grabbed his grey flannel robe. Belting it around him, he levered himself up and made his way out of the bedroom. "Rory?" he called, checking the other rooms on the second floor. He neither saw her nor received a response. A cursory check of the first floor verified that he was, indeed, alone in the house. The last place he checked was the refrigerator door where he and Rory left notes for each other as to where they were going and when they expected to be back. Nothing. Staring blankly at the appliance, he recalled the really bad joke Rory had made about if he was going to live with someone who could be beheaded at any time, at least this way he'd know where her last location had been. No note was definitely not like Rory. A feeling of dread growing inside him, he grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and dialed. "Dojo." "Richie, this is Joe. Let me talk to Macleod." Richie put down the phone and Joe could hear him yelling for Duncan. Joe spent a brief minute wondering why Duncan had never cured Richie of that annoying habit, then he heard Macleod pick up the phone. "What's up, Joe?" Joe quickly went over the events that had transpired since he and Duncan had parted company at the club, including the accent change. "Do you know where she's gone?" Mac asked, concern in his voice. "No." Joe responded. "Mac?" "Yes?" "I don't think it's Rory anymore--I don't think she's in control." Lori mgoldman@cts.com Bass Player/Musical Director for the SJD Kick-Ass House Band CFW/WAR Chief for Smokin' Joe Dawson in the first HL WAR