Date: Tue, 7 Nov 1995 21:33:12 EST Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Adam, Part 8 Adam, Part 8 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu Methos wandered into the dojo office with his wet hair partly slicked back, partly sticking up. Duncan was poring over his laptop computer. "What's up?" Methos asked, reclining comfortably on the couch. Duncan grimaced. "I have to find out what happened to Richie." Methos sat up straighter. "What exactly are you looking for?" "Just general information about the surrounding area. You said Guise caught him in Hadleyville?" "Yes -- well, actually, they caught him at a roadside restaurant about thirty miles away, and took him to a place they had prepared in Hadleyville." "I'm trying to find out where Richie might have gone if he did escape safely." "If he escaped, he would have called to warn you." "I know." Duncan rubbed his temples. "That means he's probably dead -- either temporarily or permanently. So where would they have put the body?" He tapped at the keys again. "You could look for property owned by any of the members of the band," Methos suggested. "I'll write their names down for you." "Yes, and then there are vacant lots, undeveloped land -- all kinds of possibilities." "First things first. I'll help you." "I don't need your help, Methos," Duncan said brusquely. Methos frowned slightly. "Yes, you do. I know what happened. I was there." "Yes, you were. In fact, you're the one who got him into this!" "I told you, Guise was after him already --" "And you didn't help much, did you? Now Joe is dead, Richie's missing --" "I saved your life, if you recall," Methos pointed out. "If I hadn't been there, Guise would have gotten you and Ryan as well as Joe." "Look, Methos, I appreciate the offer, but why don't you just . . . leave it to me, all right?" Methos leaned back with an uncomfortable frown. Anne drove her car past the dojo without thinking and pulled over, surprised; there were lights on inside. Curious, she walked up the steps and tried the door -- it was open. There were people in the office: one at the desk, one on the couch. Anne stopped in the door to the office. "Duncan!" she said softly, stunned. Duncan moved quickly around the desk toward her. He held out his arms for a moment, then dropped them in confusion. His mouth curved upward uncertainly. "Anne. You look good. How've you been?" "You're alive," Anne whispered. Tears stung her eyes. "Ever since I was born," Duncan replied lightly. "Well, most of the time, anyway." Anne glanced toward the stranger on the couch. Duncan started. "Oh, sorry. Anne, this is Adam Pierson. Adam, Anne Lindsay." The man had stood when she entered the room. Now he took Anne's hand and kissed it. "Madam, I'm Adam," he said with a quirk to his lips. Duncan groaned and propped one hip against the desk. "What's up?" he asked. "Joe told me you were dead." Duncan stilled. "Joe who?" "What do you mean, `Joe who?' Joe Dawson, your friend!" Duncan's eyes flicked to Pierson. "Joe's dead." "No, Joe's alive. He thinks _you're_ dead. He was released from the hospital this morning." Duncan stood up, clearly afraid to believe her. "He was shot in the chest. And he's _not_ Immortal." Anne's breath caught. "So that was what he wouldn't tell me! I knew he was hiding something." She shook her head. "He must have been wearing a vest. He had a couple of cracked ribs, that's all." Duncan's eyes closed with relief. "My God," said Pierson, looking appropriately pleased. "And he didn't drown?" "He left his leg at the bottom of the Sound. A couple of boaters rescued him a few hours later." Pierson sat down again and blew a long breath into one fist. "Give him a call, Duncan. Let him know you're okay." "Yeah," Duncan husked, reaching for the phone. Then he stopped and set the receiver down. "Maybe -- maybe I shouldn't." "What? Why wouldn't you?" Pierson looked up. "If Joe thinks you're dead, the Watchers think you're dead." Duncan nodded. "Right. I could get away. And -- Joe would be a lot safer too." "But, that's not fair to him," Anne protested. "Anne, he almost got killed because of me. Because I'm his friend. He'll be better off if everyone thinks I'm dead." "Thinking you were dead almost destroyed me, once," Anne hissed. "But wasn't it easier than knowing the truth?" "No! Of course not! Anyway, that argument doesn't work. Joe already knows you're Immortal. He's already involved, and he chose it that way." "Well, I'm choosing to get him uninvolved!" Duncan snapped, circling the desk. Anne glared at him. "And what's to keep me from telling him the truth?" Duncan froze with his back to her. "Because it's my secret, Anne, not yours. My decision to make. When you thought I was dead, Joe didn't say anything until I asked him to. Now's your chance to pay him back." "What if I don't want to pay him back? What if I think you're wrong? Duncan -- don't you see? Your lies cause more pain than the truth!" "No, I don't see!" He spun around to face her. "Too much of the truth can kill. Knowing I'm Immortal put you in danger. It killed Tessa. I've seen it happen again and again. After a while, you learn that it's safer to say nothing." "If you're going to pull seniority on me --" "We learn from experience, Anne. I've had more of it." Anne threw her hands up. "Fine. I'm not going to argue with you. It's pointless anyway." She paused in the doorway. "Are you going to leave town?" "I was leaving anyway. I have a friend in trouble." Anne sighed. "Duncan -- you're wrong. I don't know how to persuade you, but --" She looked at Pierson. "_You_ talk to him," she said, and left. "There you are, then," Methos said when she had gone. "What?" "You need my help. If you want the Watchers to think you're dead, you can't just go charging in looking for Richie in all the most likely places. The closer you get to him, the more likely you'll be spotted." "Who's going to spot me? Guise and his gang are all gone." Methos quirked his eyebrows. "Richie's Watcher, for one." Duncan's fingers stilled on the computer keys. "Think about it. You need my help. Go on with your records check, by all means, but you can't do everything and stay hidden from the Watchers. In the meantime, I'm going to go check on Joe, make sure he's all right. Maybe I can find out if the Watchers know anything about Richie." Joe slowly uncapped the bottle of Scotch he had bought in Glenfinnan. He had been saving it to share with Macleod, whenever the time seemed right. Perhaps, in some distant corner of his mind, he had even hoped that Macleod would win the Prize, and they could toast his success together. "Here's to you, Mac," Joe said softly, tossing off a shot. "I never expected to outlive you." He glanced up as the door swung open, started to reach for the crutches propped against the wall, then sat back with eyes narrowed as Adam Pierson entered. "Joe." Adam hurried across the bar with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets and a smile crinkling his eyes. "Thank God. I could hardly believe it when I heard you were all right." "I knew it was too much to hope that _you_ would be dead," Joe growled. Adam stopped in his tracks. "What's wrong, Joe?" "What's wrong?" Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Only that you carry the quickening of the most honorable man I ever knew." "You mean Macleod?" "You knew you couldn't beat him on your own, so you got your buddies to do it for you. Then you conveniently blew up the boat so no one would talk." "Joe, that's not what happened --" "Save your breath, Adam. Or whatever your name is," Joe sneered. "I know it isn't Methos. I'm tired of listening to your lies." "Joe!" Adam took a step forward. "What are you going to do? Kill me?" Joe's eyes were hooded with grief and betrayal. "Of course not!" "You won't persuade me to keep quiet about this. You're finished with the Watchers. And you're going to have a lot of people after your head. I wouldn't object to taking it myself, but then Duncan's quickening would be lost. As it is, you can be on the lookout for Connor Macleod. When he hears what happened, he won't stop until he finds you." "I never lied to you, Joe," Adam said sadly. "Just get out of my bar," Joe growled. "I hope I never see your face again." He poured himself another shot of Scotch, deliberately not looking as Adam turned and slowly departed. When he was alone he just stared at the empty glass. The Scotch was good, but it hadn't aged long enough. Joe couldn't just sit by while a bottle collected decades or centuries, like the cognac Macleod had shared with Richie after he beat Hyde. Richie. Joe caught his breath at the thought. Alan Guise had said that Richie was dead, but that couldn't be right if Pierson had been present and there had been no quickening. If Richie was still alive, and Joe could track him down, he would be the perfect person to take vengeance on Adam Pierson. Pushing the bottle aside, Joe grabbed his crutches and headed for the phone. Duncan paused as he felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal, but he could tell quite soon that it was Methos. Relaxing, he returned to the salad he had been preparing. Methos rolled up the elevator gate and stepped into the loft, looking serious. "I think your lady friend was right." "About what?" Duncan said around a mouthful of carrot. "You should tell Joe that you're alive." Duncan sighed. "Methos, I gave you my reasons. When _you_ had a chance to hide from the Watchers, you made the most of it. Why shouldn't I?" "Because you're hurting a friend." "I'm keeping him safe! You know what it's like for a mortal who gets too close to an Immortal." Duncan waved the knife he had been chopping with. "They get used as bait, as hostages, as weaknesses to be exploited. And they get killed in the process." "Joe wasn't killed, Macleod." "He almost was. _I_ couldn't save him, and neither could you! I thought his Watcher connections would protect him, but they've just been another source of trouble." "You're also destroying _my_ friendship with Joe. He thinks I killed you!" "Good. Then he's doubly safe. Haven't you noticed, Methos? People die around you -- around me, around all of us. It's part of the Game." Methos looked disgusted. "So you're going to hide yourself away and avoid all contact with mortals, and never make another friend, is that it?" "I'm _going_ to go help a friend who's in trouble, in case you've forgotten. Did you find out anything about Richie?" Methos turned his back, dropping the argument. "Joe wasn't in a very talkative mood. I doubt any of the other Watchers will be, either. Was there anything in the property records?" "Nothing." Duncan threw the chopped carrots into the salad and stabbed at the bowl with wooden spoons, attacking the salad rather than tossing it. "We'll have to go to Hadleyville and we what we can find out there." "What about your kinsman, Connor Macleod?" Methos said in a milder voice as he studied the layout on the chess board. "What about him?" "Are you planning to keep him safe by letting him think you're dead?" Duncan frowned. "Of course not." "Then you'd better call him and tell him you're all right. Joe's sending him after my head." Duncan looked up. "Joe threatened you with Connor?" "I told you, he's upset." Duncan looked uncertain for a moment, then tightened his jaw and returned to the salad. Glancing at the clock, he said, "Dinner's almost ready. You want some salad?" Methos sighed and assented, shaking his head disappointedly at Duncan's youthful pigheadedness. =========================================================================