Date: Mon, 19 Jun 1995 22:37:35 -0400 Reply-To: JillMari@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jill Spetoskey Subject: Open Mike Night at Joe's Comments are welcome, as always at: jillmari@aol.com All glaring inconsistencies in this one are my own fault. Some timelines have been admittedly tweaked for the sake of preventing other inconsistencies. Open Mike Night at Joe's c. 1995 by Jill Spetoskey 1994 Jim flipped listlessly through the battered Newsweek. You're going back to what some people think of as civilization, so it might be good to have some idea of what's going on in that part of the world, he chided himself. He dropped the magazine back into the seatback pocket, and looked at his watch. Another hour to go before the plane touched down in Paris. Jim let out a half-smile. He'd thought it would be fifty years before he set foot in Paris again, even if it was just to change planes. He felt like he still owed Duncan something, though, and the new Jim was a person who liked to pay his debts. He settled back into his seat and slipped into a doze. 1968-Los Angeles Jim was staring at the flower, waiting for it to tell him its story, when he first met Duncan. The light reflected through the whiskey bottle, and was creating a rainbow all the way around the flowerpot. He knew there was a song there. All he'd have to do was keep looking to find it. Suddenly, he heard a crash against the door. He'd looked up to see an angry looking man charging through his door with a sword in his hands. "You can't hide from me forever, Carlo. Your head will be mine because of how you tried to hurt me." "Huh?" Jim took a step away from the dark-haired man. He then made the man a logical offer. He held the whiskey bottle out to the stranger. "Want a slug? How about a hit then, man?" With his other hand, he offered the stranger the lit joint to the man. Anger faded away from the man's face to be replaced by something Jim couldn't quite figure out. "You don't know, do you?" he said softly. "Know what?" "That you cannot die." "Whatdaya mean. I can't die." "Just that, you cannot die by normal means." The man grimaced, and reached into his jeans pocket for something. "Look. I'll show you" Before Jim could do anything, the man grabbed his right arm with one hand, and drew a small Swiss Army knife out of his pocket. Flipping out a blade, the mandrew it against Jim's arm. Jim felt the cool steel push through his skin. He saw the blood welling up from a cut from his elbow to his wrist, and exhaled a puff of smoke. As he watched, the cut closed itself into a pink line. "That's nice. " He tried to be reasonable to the creature. "But you know it doesn't mean anything. It's like the snake. It's there when I look for it, but when I wake up in the morning, it goes away." A look of disgust crossed the man's face. "You're too stoned to handle this now. Why don't you sleep this off, and we'll talk about this in the morning." When Jim woke up that morning, the man was still there. With his eyes half-closed, he took a closer look at him. Sleek dark hair that Jim's parents would have called long, but Jim called short led down to a black turtleneck sweater. Tight dark jeans were tucked neatly into a pair of black cowboy boots. The sword was nowhere to be seen. "Let's try this again. My name is Duncan, and we need to have a talk about things." "Jim. Pleased to meet..." 1994-Over southern France "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Jim looked up to see that his questoner was a college age-looking girl, American from the accent. "Were you in Top Gun, and that movie with the hippies and the band and all?" Jim realized that he had tensed in his seat, and forced himself to relax. "No, I'm not Val Kilmer if that's who you mean. I'm Jim Felix, and I play football for a semi-pro team in Kenya." "Sorry I confused you with him." She made small talk with him for a little bit longer, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes. She made an excuse, and moved back toward her seat. Not a big enough celebrity for you, he thought. He let his mind drift back in time again. Duncan had told Jim that night that he had probably died several times from his actions, and that he needed to be careful about things, but Jim hadn't cared. He felt like he needed the drugs in order to write, that he couldn't create without them. It had been Duncan who had pulled him out of Paris and had staked him some money to get out of town when he'd messed up and died in a very announced way. Jim was interupted by the flight attendant starting to go through the entering the country lecture, and he pushed himself back to the present, and wondered why Duncan was cashing in his chips now. 1994-Otsego, Michigan Preston King grabbed a pint of Chunky Monkey out of the freezer, and headed to the counter of the 7-11. The clerk wrung up the ice cream, and Preston was rifling through his wallet when he saw his daughter on the cover of the Star- Enquirer. He reached over, and added the tabloid to his purchases. "That'll be $4.67 please. You like to read that sort of thing?" The was a fresh-faced college kid. Preston figured he was trying to work his way through WMU or something. "You never know. They can be more accurate than people realize." He replied, thinking that he didn't dare show his face very many places south of Grand Rapids these days. He gathered up his purchases, and headed to his car. Lisa, my daughter, all I want you to be is happy. He remembered coming home earlier than he was supposed to, and finding his wife in bed with his manager. He'd been furious, ready to throw her out of the house at that time, but she'd begged for forgiveness, and they had reached a reconciliation of sorts. He knew that Lisa night not have been his daughter in flesh, but she was definitely the daughter of his heart. "Don't let those bastards wreck your life like they tried to wreck mine. Fight them honey." He sadly murmured under his breath as he drove away. 1994-Seacouver Jim felt another immortal as he walked off the plane. Turning away from the arrival lounge, he saw Duncan waving him over. "Mac, good to see you again. All I need to do is collect my um... firearms, and we can be on our way. No other baggage, I've learned to travel light the past few years." "How's Africa been, Jim?" "I like it a lot. Kind of strange how I thought I lost everything after my accident, but things are good now. I own an auto parts import business, and play a little football on the side. I don't know if I'm good, or they let me play because I paid for uniforms, but it's fun. And you?" The two continued to catch up as Jim collected the firearms case, and left it at the AA counter. They reached Duncan's convertable, and Jim slid into the passenger seat as Duncan put the top up. "So what is it, Mac? Not that it isn't good to see you and all, but Seacouver is a little far to come for a social call." Duncan took a seat, and started an engine. "It's a new immortal. He's a suicide case, and I'm worried that he might try again." "Why worry about that?" "Well, he was a pretty famous musician around here, and if he goes out and tries again in a very public way, then there could be some ugly questions. I feel like I'm too far away from the beginning of things to help him, and my student, Richie, hasn't been immortal long enough to see both sides of things. You know about imortality, but you remember in your gut how things were, too. Besides, you used to be a musician, too." "I'll try, Duncan. It's been a while since anyone called me a sage, though." **** Jim followed Duncan out of the loft elevator. One blond man sat on a chair near the dinner table, while another blond was frying something in the kitchen. Jim noticed the cook's face relax as he recognized Mac. "Burgers a la Richie. Get 'em while they're hot. As always, I have perfect timing when it comes to food." Richie flipped the burger onto a waiting bun as Duncan began the introductions. "Jim this is Curt." Duncan nodded at the seated figure, who looked up at Jim disinterestedly. "This is Richie." Richie stuck out a hand still enclosed in a blue oven mitt. "Good to meet you." "Jim and Curt, this is Jim. he used to be a musician too." Jim watched the two take a second look a him. Suddenly, Richie's face lit up as he made the connection. "Damn, I'd love to talk to you, but Mac and I have to meet with some building inspectors. We WILL talk later though." Jim grinned at his enthusiasm. "Maybe I remember a war stroy or two. See you later then." The two grabbed burgers as they headed out, leaving Jim alone with the sullen Curt. "So who else would I know of that's like us?" Curt finally spoke. "I don't know for sure." Jim paused. "And even if I did, I couldn't really say. It's bad enough coming back from the dead for a normal person, more so if your face was well known beforehand. Duncan said you were becoming rather famous before " "Before I tried to blow my brains out? Yeah, I guess I was. " Curt smiled wanly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to actively try that again, if that's what Duncan brought you in here to make sure of. I just want to go numb, not to have to feel everything." "Do you want someone else to end it for you then?" "Sure," he shrugged. "Why not. Are you going to decapitate me? It's my understanding that that's the only way I can permanently end things now." Jim walked over to the neay black case he had carried in, and pulled out his Toledo blade. He placed the sword on the base of Curt's neck, almost nicking an artery. Curt never flinched. "So be it, then." Jim set the sword across an extra chair. "I can't do something like that. I'm no executioner, and I just don't understand what's going through your mind. I never wanted to die. I just screwed up, and they found the body before I could correct things. Let me call another friend of mine who did the same thing you did. Maybe she can help." "Sure." Jim walked over to the phone, and dialed. On the third ring, she picked up the reciever. "Adams Music. Maggie Adams speaking." The voice was low and sweet to his ears. "Hi Maggie, it's Jim here. I need your help with something up near Seattle. How's your calendar there days?" "Just finished an album for Joan Jett, and I don't have anything else on the plan for two weeks. I was sitting down with Pres for the next few days, and letting him show me how to plan for a happy retirement, and my golden years. It's kind of strange how people's other talents come out when they're forced to try something new. I never would have picked him for a financial whiz. Anyway, what can I do for you?" Jim bit his tongue before answering her. "I just need you to talk to someone. He's a new immortal and he tried to commit suicide. Duncan asked me to see what I could do to help, but it's something fully out of my experiences." "Okay, Jim. Pres and I'll be on the next flight up."Jim heard the flicking of pagesin the background. "How about having you or Duncan meet us for the 4:30 on Southwest. Just remember that you owe me one, and that I plan on taking it out on your hide." "I know, and I wouldn't mind that at all." Jim heard her deep chuckle as she hung up the phone, and began getting ready for the arrival of a person who, in his eyes, was a goddess. *** Jim sat waiting in the loft for Duncan to get back from the airport. He'd promised war stories to Richie, but conversation had died out quickly when he'd tried to start something. Curt always seemed to find a way to kill it. Finally, heard the clicking of the motor, and knew that Duncan and his guests were on the way up in the elevator. The grate opened, and they were there. Pres made a quick beeline to the bathroom, leaving Maggie standing in the doorway. Jim hugged her, and found himself thinking how nice she felt. She had come from the days when a model had a few curves on her, not like those anorexic twigs they called beautiful these days. She still wore her hair chin-length, but it was brown now, and curlier than ehen it was blond. Yes, Jim, you still have a crush on her, he chided himself. He let go long enough to make introductions, and chuckled when he saw Richie's jaw drop again as Maggie and Preston were introduced. "The next thing you'll be telling me is that the Kennedy brothers were immortal, too." "No, they were definitely mortal." Maggie replied with sadness in her voice. "Now let's shoo all the men out of here, and let me have a word or three with Curt here." The four men set off on a tour of Duncan's dojo. After the walk through, they sat in the office, and Jim felt freer to start on the promised stories. Pres jumped in with stories from his tours, and soon the two were started in a contest of tales, each more outrageous than the last. It seemed like only a few minutes before Maggie came back down stairs. "You know I'm not a therapist, but I think that I might be able to help a little. You can't just get rid of problems like he has overnight, but let me keep talking to him, and I might convince him that life isn't such a burden. He's asleep now. In the meantime, might I join you?" "You know it's pretty incredible company in here." Richie said. "That it is, kiddo. You know I work as a session drummer these days. To play with these guys would be even more an experience." She replied. "We have a mutual admiration society here then," Jim grinned. "It would be fun to be in the studio with you two." "Why don't you then?" Richie asked. "I even know a place where you could play if you wanted to." Maggie licked her lips thoughtfully. "Do you have a drum kit I could use then?" "You all should know that that would be a very bad idea. What if you were recognized by people?" Duncan spoke for the first time. "We'd been recognized , then." Pres replied. "It's different for people like us. If someone gets a picture of me, then the place it goes is right next to the five-headed goat. It's so impossible that we wouldn't be identified. Duncan looked unconvinced. "It's not like Joe would talk or anything." Richie chimed in. "Besides, it might be beneficial to Curt." Maggie added Duncan muttered something about it being your funeral, but didn't try to stop Richie from calling the club owner he knew. *** The next night, the four of them stood on stage at the small blues club. "Okay now, let's open with the Mojo Nixon song just like we practiced now." Jim barked. Maggie got a beat started, and Pres and Curt started in on their guitars. "Elvis is everywhere. "Elvis is everywhere...." Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Curt smiling. It was a start for him, he thought. =========================================================================