Date:         Thu, 20 Apr 1995 12:45:54 -0600
Reply-To:     Z_DENTONAM@TITAN.SFASU.EDU
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Amy Denton <Z_DENTONAM@TITAN.SFASU.EDU>
Subject:      Revelations (Part 5 of 6)

   Okay, here's part 5. I promise to have this thing finished before the new
shows start. Sorry it's taken me so long.
  As ususal any questions, comments, hate-mail or gushing praise can be sent
to: Z_DENTONAM@TITAN.SFASU.EDU

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Revelations Part 5 of 6
By Amy M. Denton

     Joe Dawson slowly made his way down the steps inside his club.  Midway
down he caught the eye of the bartender, Mike, the one who had called.  Mike
angled his head toward a table near the back.  Joe nodded but walked over to
the bar anyway.
     "How much?" he asked.
     Mike looked over into the back section of the bar, or at least tried to.
The bar was moderately full but it was also dim, making it hard to see more
than a few feet away.  Mike shrugged his shoulders and said "No more than 2
bottles.  Maybe three."
     "Gee, is that all?" Joe asked, sarcasm dripping from his words
     "You think I'm going to argue with him?  What? You think I'm stupid?  You
should have seen the look on his face...if looks could kill."
     "Irregardless, no more."
     "I know,  he can't argue now. You gonna talk to him?"
     "That's the plan."
     "Good luck.  Want me to call a cab?"
     Joe shook his head and walked toward the table Mike had pointed out.  Way
in the back of the bar, almost next to the office was one small table, away
from everything else.  Joe sometimes used it to balance the books or for
Watcher business but tonight it was being used for a completely different
purpose.  Tonight it was being used by a person who was trying to forget
everything in his life, and he was succeeding, at least momentarily.
     Duncan was seated at, more liked slouched over, the table with three
bottles of Scotch in front of him and a shot glass in one hand.  The seal had
been broken on all three of the bottles and the smell of Scotch lingered in the
air.  With an unsteady hand, Duncan picked up one of the bottles, poured some
of the liquor in the shot glass and drank it in one glup.  Joe watched him
repeat this procedure several times before he sat down at the table with Ducan.
    Duncan didn't look up.  He just kept picking up the bottle and draining the
contents, slowly but surely.
    "Find any answers?" Joe asked, unsure of what reaction he would get.
    Duncan's head jerked up at the sound of Joe's voice and he turned his head
in Joe's direction.  His unfocused eyes came to rest on Joe for a moment before
they returned to the bottle.
    "Joe.  Care for a drink?"  His voice slurred by too much alcohol made it
hard to understand but Joe got the general idea.
    "No thanks, looks like you've had enough for both of us."
    Duncan smiled momentarily before reaching for the bottle again.
    "Just wondering if you've found any answers in that bottle."
    Duncan scowled and glupped down another shot of Scotch but didn't say
anything.
    "I supposed now would not be a good time to tell you you're not going to
solve any problems that way."  Joe motioned toward the bottle on the table.
     Duncan just glared at him, or glared in his general direction.  Joe sat
and watched him for a few more minutes not knowing what to say before a noise
coming from the opposite direction of the table made him turn around.
     One of the musicians on the bandstand had knocked over a music stand.  It
had made a good deal of noise and startled several people but nothing had been
broken. When Joe turned back to Duncan, he found him passed out on the table,
shot glass still in hand.
      Joe shook his head and muttered "Finally."  He signalled Mike to come
over and help him take Duncan back into the office where he could sleep off
the effects of his binge.  Joe then sat down in the office with Duncan and
waited.
       ***************************************************************
     "Araghahgahhg." The sound woke Joe up.  He groaned himself and tried to
move.  He had fallen asleep in the chair in his office and now he was stiff.
<<I'm getting too old to do this.>> he thought.  He streched his protesting
muscles and look over in the direction where the sound had come from.
     It came from the couch, where Duncan had been passed out, after drinking
too much the night before.
     The late morning sun came slanting through the partially open blinds.  The
position of the sun told Joe that it was probably 10 or 11 in the morning.  He
sat up a little straighter and waited for Duncan to come fully awake.
     "Oh, God."  Duncan sat up on the couch and immediately wished he hadn't.
His head felt like a 2-ton weight and was steadily throbing in time to
something he couldn't quite hear. He glanced around the room for a moment
before putting his head in his hands.  Not only to block out the light but
maybe to stop the throbbing in his head.
     "Look, it's alive." Joe cracked in his best imitation of Dr. Frankenstein.
Duncan picked up his head and looked at Joe for an instant before dropping his
head back into his hands.  "Then again, maybe not." Joe amended himself.
     "Where am I?" Duncan asked.
     "Back of the bar.  You've been here since last night.  You realize that
you went through 3 bottles of my best Scotch?  Is it possible for an immortal
to die from alcohol poisioning?  If not, you came damn close."
     "I wish I was dead."
     "No, you don't.  I got a question for you though."
     "What?"  Maybe if he answered the questions, Joe would go away and leave
him to suffer in peace.
     "Are you any clearer on what you are going to do about Anne?"
     At the mention of Anne's name, Duncan's snapped up.  He instantly
regretted it.  He dropped his head back into his hands  "How do you know?"
He asked, his voice muffled by his hands.
     "I'm a Watcher. I know just about everything."
     "Any ideas then?"
     "Getting sloshed isn't going to help."
     "Thanks for the advice.  Anything else?"
     "Let me think a moment."  Pause.  "What you pulled here last night has got
to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do."
     "If I wanted a lecture, I would have asked for one."
     "Too bad, you're getting one anyway."
     "What business is this of yours?"
     "What business is this of mine?  You come in here to *my* bar, get drunk on
liquor *from* said bar, pass out, then wake up in the back room of that bar
with a hangover that would probably kill anybody else and you have the audacity
to ask me what business is this of mine?  Jeez, I think the alcohol must have
pickled your brain."
     Duncan shot Joe a nasty look, that Joe calmly ignored.  "I didn't ask for
your advice."  Duncan's voice was muffled again.
     "Yeah, well, I didn't ask for you drink yourself silly, in *my* bar."
     "Next time I'll go elsewhere.  You could have thrown me out."
     "Are you serious?"
     No answer.
     "I didn't think so."
     Silence descended on the small room as neither man made any move to say
anything.
     "Joe?"  The silence was broken by Duncan, his head still in his hands.
     "What?"
     "Why didn't you?"
     Joe frowned.  "Why didn't I what?"
     "Why didn't you throw me out last night?"  Duncan's voice was so
low-pitched, Jow had a difficult time understanding him.
     Joe sighed.  Duncan had been crushed since Anne had walked out on him.  He
had not been hadling it well.  As Richie had said he *hadn't* been handling it
at all.  Going on a drinking binge in the bar last night had just been another
indication of his refusal to deal with the problem.  <<How many times can a
person's heart be broken before they stop caring?>> Joe thought.  He shook his
head.  He didn't know what to do with Duncan any more than Richie did.
      "Joe?" Duncan said.  "You haven't answered my question."
      "This is going to sound like a novel idea to you but how about the fact I
was concerned about you."  Joe's voice was quiet in the small office. "Don't
ask me why I *should* be concerned.  It's certainly not for the gratitude."  He
smiled breifly.
       Silence came down on the small room again.  It was so quiet, the two men
could hear the bartender moving around out in the bar. A few moments later
there was a knock on the door of the office.
      "Come in."  Joe yelled through the door.
      Mike the bartneder stuck his head in.  "There's a building inspector guy
out here.  Says he's here to inspect the building."
      Joe frowned.  "You're kidding.  I don't remember asking a buliding
inspector out here."
      Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Says he's here for the annual inspection.
Claims he talked to you last week."
      Joe's forehead wrinkled as he thought and then he remembered.  He
groaned.  "That's right."  Joe ran a hand through his hair.  "The inspector's
right.  How could I have forgotten?"  He said more to himself than anyone in
the room.  He looked down at the clothes he had slept in.  "And no time to
change.  I'm gettin' to old for this."  He muttered to himself.
      "What me to tell him you're not here?" Mike voluntered.
      "No, no."  Joe shook his head and got out the chair he was sitting in.
"If I don't do this now.  I'll never see the guy again.  Tell him I'll be there
in a few minutes."
       Mike nodded and closed the door.
       Joe looked at Duncan.  He longer had his head in his hands.  The
hangover must be disappearing.  The two men exchanged a look.  "You're welcome
to stay for as long as you want, you know that."
       Duncan nodded.  His head no longer throbbed.
       "But,"  Joe continued, "Don't you come within a 100 yards of the bar.
The last thing you need is more alchohol."
       Duncan nodded his head again.
       "Okay."  Joe smiled.  "I'm off to do battle with the building inspector.
Wish me luck."
       "Good luck." Duncan said.  He had now had his head resting on top of his
hands instead of in them.
       Joe walked over to the door and opened but turned his head back in
Duncan's direction.  "And Duncan?"
       "Yeah, Joe?"
       "I'm always here to talk. You know that."
       "Umhum."
       Joe walked through the door and shut it behind him.
                 *         *        *       *

      Duncan sat there for a very long time, just listening to sounds the bar
made.  He heard the inspector and Joe, the bartender, the wind, the
sounds an old building puts out.  He sat there deep in thought, too.  Joe was
right.  What he had done last night *had* been stupid.  He hadn't been on a
drinking binge like in a very long time.  Of course, he hadn't found the
answer to any of his problems but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
      He was tired he realized.  Tired of constantly having to hide what he
was, tired of the killing , tired of the violence.  Unfortunatly, short of
suicide; which he did *not* want to do, there was no way out being who he was.
He could go to the house he had built by the lake.  It was on Holy Ground.  no
one would bother him there, but he didn't want to be alone. He was tired of
being alone as well, he discovered.
     He rose to his feet and walked over to the door.  His hangover was gone.
<<One perk of being immortal.>> He thought grimly, a ghost of a smile flitting
across his face.  <<I won't accomplish anything sitting here, though.  Might as
well go back to the dojo.  Maybe she's already waiting for me there.>>  A
slightly bigger smile crossed his face this time.  He opened the door and
walked out.
      Joe was talking to the inspector in front of the bar when he walked out.
The two men exchanged a glance.
      "Figure anything out?"  Joe asked as he watched Duncan walk by the bar.
      "Don't get drunk in your bar?" Duncan guessed.
      Joe didn't reply but he watched Duncan cross the floor to the stairs and
then watched him walk up the stairs and out the door.  Joe shook his head.  "I
hope things work out for him."  He said to himself.

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