Date:         Sun, 25 Jun 1995 22:03:49 -0700
Reply-To:     Naomi Hayashi <nhayashi@MERCURY.SFSU.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Naomi Hayashi <nhayashi@MERCURY.SFSU.EDU>
Subject:      X-File #A274-D33 part 14 of 17
In-Reply-To:  <9506260447.AA15028@mercury.sfsu.edu>

This is being posted for the author, who currently doesn't have internet
access. Please direct all comments you want to be passed on to the author
or requests for missing parts to nhayashi@sfsu.edu


X-File: #A274-D33
Part 14 of 17
by Albert Low


    MacLeod felt himself relaxing infinitesimally as he pulled up in
front of Dawson's bar.  He'd stayed at the shrine for a few minutes and
returned to the dojo before deciding he didn't want to be alone.
    He almost ran into Dawson as he entered.  The Watcher teetered
precariously for a second before regaining his balance.
    "Sorry," MacLeod said.  "I should have been more careful."
    "Forget it.  I've got a line on Stocker's whereabouts."
    The immortal just looked at him for a moment.  Then he grinned.
"Great!  Where is he?"
    "I'll tell you on the way," Dawson said, moving out the door and
heading for MacLeod's Thunderbird.
    "Joe, I don't think this is a good idea."
    "You want to find Stocker or not?"
    MacLeod looked closely at his friend's face and decided to surrender
gracefully.  He opened the door for Dawson, then walked around and got
into the driver's seat.
    "He's at this address," Dawson said, handing him a piece of paper.
    MacLeod glanced at the address, memorizing it before pulling away
from the curb.  "How did you find him?"
    Dawson didn't answer immediately.  "Through you, actually."
    He didn't get it at first, then he understood.  "You had someone
following me when I met Stocker.  Then 'my' Watcher followed him when he
left."
    "It's what we do," the Watcher said apologetically.
    Obviously Dawson expected him to be angry or, at the very least,
annoyed.  And MacLeod was, slightly, but the thought of the expression on
Stocker's face when he surprised him more than made up for it.  But..."I
think I should drop you off first."
    "I'm going, MacLeod.  Like I said, it's what we do.  We watch while
you do what you have to."
    MacLeod sighed, knowing he couldn't change Dawson's mind.  "Just try
to stay out of trouble."
    "Don't worry about that," Dawson assured him.  His cellular phone
rang.  "Excuse me."  He listened for a while, then issued a few
instructions and hung up.
    "We could have trouble.  Jerry said two people, a man and a woman,
drove up a few minutes ago and entered the building where Stocker is."
    *A man and a woman...*  MacLeod had a bad feeling.  "Did he give you
a description?"
    "A brief one.  Both were Caucasian and wore raincoats.  The man was
about six feet tall, while the woman was maybe five foot five with auburn
hair."
    "Damn!"
    "What's wrong?"
    "It sounds like it could be those two FBI agents."
    "Think it could just be a coincidence?"
    MacLeod didn't bother answering; he just looked at Dawson dubiously.
    "Neither do I.  But how could they have found Stocker?"
    "I don't know.  Your source said they were good."
    Dawson merely nodded and fell silent as MacLeod pushed the car's
speed just past the speed limit.
    About a quarter of a mile from their destination, they heard the wail
of sirens.  An ambulance turned around a corner about two blocks ahead of
them, closely followed by two police cars.  All three vehicles were
heading in the same direction as they were.
    MacLeod and Dawson looked at each other, each obviously fearing the
worst.
    MacLeod drove onward at a slower pace, while Dawson contacted the
Watcher who was waiting for them.
    A minute later, they came to a stop about a block shy of the address
Dawson's man had given them.  They could see the ambulance and squad cars
parked up ahead and people walking in and out of the building.  A man sat
alone in a gray Chevrolet parked across the street from them.  He was a
young, thoroughly unremarkable, man.  *An asset in his line of work,*
MacLeod mused.
    Dawson beckoned him to come over.  "Jerry, this is Duncan MacLeod.
MacLeod, this is Jerry Conners, one of my best men."
    "He must be," MacLeod said.  "I didn't spot him."
    To his amusement, the young Watcher blushed with pride.
    "What's going on, Jerry?" Dawson demanded.
    "I don't know.  About half an hour after Stocker went in, those two I
called you about arrived on the scene.  After I called you I walked
around the outside of the building, but I didn't see or hear anything.
When I heard the sirens I got back in my car, and that's when you called."
    Dawson nodded.  "Good work.  You can go now.  We'll talk later."
    "Right."  The young watcher turned to MacLeod.  "It was an honor to
meet you."  Then he walked back to his car and took off.
    "Look."  MacLeod gestured towards the distant group of vehicles.  The
paramedics were helping a man out of the building and into the
ambulance.  A woman walked out beside them.  "I can't be sure, but I
think that was Mulder they were helping.  The woman's probably his partner."
    "Can you sense Stocker?"
    "No, but that doesn't mean anything.  We're too far away."  He would
have said more, but a squat van passing by caught his attention.  Writing
on its side identified it as belonging to the coroner.
    "I guess we know what happened," Dawson said.  "We'd better leave
before we're noticed.
    MacLeod nodded his assent, and they got back into the Thunderbird.
    "Looks like you can relax, MacLeod.  When Stocker wakes up, he'll
probably leave the city."
    "That'd be the smart thing to do," he agreed.  But he had a feeling
that wasn't going to happen.

    So what's the prognosis?" Scully asked as she walked up to the rear
of the ambulance.
    Mulder was sitting on a cot near the rear doors.  He had just put on
his jacket and was now picking up his raincoat.  The paramedics, as well
as Scully, had wanted to take him to the hospital, but, predictably,
Mulder had refused.  So they had had to treat him in the ambulance.
    Scully had remained nearby for a few minutes while the paramedics had
cleansed and bandaged his wounds.  Then she'd gone back into the building
to talk to Kominski and supervise the removal of the corpse.
    "They told me I'll live," Mulder said.  "I wish I could say the same
for my tie."  He fingered what remained of it, one of the typically wacky
ties he wore.  She often wondered where he found all of them.  Her
favorite theory was that he went shopping at flea markets.
    "If you ask me, it's an improvement," she said, straightfaced.
    He gave her a baleful look, but she could see the corners of his
mouth curling up ever so slightly.
    "Excuse me, Agent Mulder."
    One of the paramedics stepped into the back of the ambulance.  "We
just picked up an emergency call.  So unless you want to go to the
hospital..."
    "I'll get out of your hair," Mulder said, rising to his feet.  He
slowly stepped down out of the vehicle, wincing slightly as he moved.
    Scully resisted the urge to help him.  She knew he would refuse, and,
besides, it served him right since he had refused to go to the hospital.
She did, however, ask if it hurt much.
    "It's not too bad," he told her.  "They gave me some painkillers
along with the injection to prevent infection."  He gestured towards the
smithy.  "So what's the latest?"
    "The coroner's taken the body to the morgue.  The sword's gone to the
police lab for testing."  She raised a hand to stop Mulder from
interrupting.  "I know how you feel.  I wanted to send it to the FBI lab,
but Kominski insisted.  And it's his jurisdiction."  She sighed.  "I also
got an earful about how we should have informed him we had a lead."
    Mulder nodded sympathetically.  "Is he still here?"
    "No, he left about ten minutes ago."
    "Damn!  I wanted the autopsy put off until you can handle it.  We'd
better get down to the morgue."  And he headed for their rental car.
    "Is that really necessary, Mulder?" Scully asked.
    "I want this autopsy done perfectly, Scully.  I think we'll find that
he's in the same perfect condition as the victims."
    "Maybe, but Kominski's not going to be easy to convince."
    "Don't worry.  I'll use my charm on him.  He won't have a chance," he
deadpanned.
    "There's no need for such drastic measures, Mulder.  I've already
made the arrangements with the lieutenant."
    Mulder stopped and looked at her in surprise.
    She grinned.  "I figured you'd want it that way.  Besides, I've got a
feeling about this case, too."
    "Better not put that in your field report, Scully, or people will
start calling you 'Spooky'," he said, referring to the nickname he'd
acquired among his fellow agents.
    She couldn't help but grin again.  "Don't worry about that.  You'd
better let me drive."
    Mulder looked down at his right hand which was so heavily bandaged it
could have passed as a catcher's mitt.  "That's probably a good idea."
    "Yes." He handed her the keys, and they got into the car.
    "Before we go to the morgue, let's stop by the hotel first," he
said.  "It's kind of drafty."  And he fingered his torn jacket and shirt.
    "I _was_ going to suggest that."
    The trip to the hotel was quiet.  Mulder leaned back in his seat,
eyes closed, the entire trip.  He was obviously more drained than he let on.
    He roused when they arrived and stumbled into his room, saying he'd
only be a few minutes.
    Scully used the time to review the case histories and the events of
the past few days.  She kept coming back to one conclusion: something far
out of the ordinary was going on here.  And the most frustrating thing
was that she didn't know what it was.  She really didn't want to believe
Mulder's theory, but it _did_ fit the facts.
    Her musing were interrupted as Mulder got back into the car, wearing
a new suit and looking much better.  And, to her mild amusement, he was
sporting an even weirder tie than before.
    "Let's get down to the morgue," he said heartily.
    Scully drove again, her spirits uplifted by Mulder's restored vigor.
Along the way, they argued about what could be inferred from the incident
at the smithy.  He insisted that it vindicated his theories, but she
pointed out that the so-called "immortal" was dead.
    They soon arrived at the building which housed the morgue and some of
the police labs,  Mulder striding through the entrance quickly.  Then he
stopped so abruptly that Scully almost ran into him.
    "What is it?" she asked.
    He stepped aside so she could see.  Kominski and two officers were
scattered about the hallway talking to various morgue personnel.
    The two agents exchanged worried looks and walked up to the lieutenant.
    "Agent Scully. Agent Mulder.  How are you feeling?"
    "I'll live," Mulder replied.  "What's going on?  Is it connected with
our case?"
    "Oh, yes," Kominski said.  "I don't know how to tell you, but we,
well, we can't find the body."
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