DISCLAIMER: Highlander and its canon characters are the property of Davis/Panzer Productions or a successor corporation; no copyright infringement is intended.

x

Note: This "what-if" fic was suggested by something we saw, very briefly, in the series.

Following the lead of the series, I won't spell out when characters are "really" speaking French. Suffice it to say that when MacLeod is with native French speakers, everyone's speaking French; when he's with a native English speaker, they speak English.

x

x

x

The voice on the phone was friendly. "Monsieur MacLeod? This is Inspector Deon. I assume you would have called us if our fugitive, Monsieur Goddard, had contacted you. But I thought I should call you and make sure."

Much as MacLeod regretted having become involved in this, identified as an old friend of Goddard's, he knew the situation would be worse if he hadn't. So he replied, "Very understandable, Inspector. But he hasn't contacted me, and I have no idea where he is."

That's the truth, he reflected. The Immortal he knew as Warren Cochrane hadn't "contacted" him; he'd found Cochrane. And after he'd refused to take Cochrane's head, the man had fled. He could be anywhere.

Hopefully, far from Paris.

Deon sighed. "Yes, that's what I expected." A pause, then, "Something I just thought of. Would you be willing to come to the station, so I can ask you a few more questions about him?

"I'm sure he's deranged. Had to be, to kill another man in that bizarre way - by beheading - and then develop amnesia! He's dangerous, and we need to find him. If you and I talk, you may remember more about his habits when he wasn't deranged. Favorite places, for example, that he might still go back to."

The last thing MacLeod wanted was another chat with Deon about Warren Goddard. But trying to avoid it might seem suspicious. So he said, "Of course, Inspector. When would you like me to come by?"

The Inspector said, "Uh, I'm free right now. Are you?"

MacLeod suppressed a groan. Looked out the nearest porthole of his barge, and saw that it had, at least, stopped snowing. For the first time in a week.

Okay, I suppose I may as well get it over with.

"Yes. I can be there in fifteen minutes."

x

x

x

As he drove to the station, he considered what he'd tell Deon. Not a problem, he decided. He'd seen Warren Cochrane a few times in recent years - wouldn't have recognized him so quickly if he hadn't. (Fortunately, the police had let MacLeod hear the amnesiac's current name before he had to come up with it.) So he'd describe those recent meetings, claim that was the entirety of their acquaintance. A casual friendship, nothing more.

He had in fact known Cochrane since the mid-18th century, when they'd fought for a free Scotland to be ruled by the fabled "Bonnie Prince Charlie." Only MacLeod had actually fought in the crucial Battle of Culloden; Cochrane had been "killed" before it began, and had to disappear.

When it became apparent that the cause was lost, MacLeod had accepted it and moved on. But Cochrane, who hadn't experienced the Battle, had clung to the delusion that Charlie was a better leader than he actually was.

MacLeod couldn't be sure what had driven Cochrane to behead Andrew Donnelly, a new Immortal he'd taken on as a student. But they'd been at a site Cochrane would have associated with Charlie. So he could guess, with near certainty. Cochrane had been ranting about the "greatness" of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Donnelly knew historians didn't see it that way. And he'd argued, perhaps vehemently - not realizing Cochrane was deluded, to the point of being dangerous.

Given the horrible thing Warren had done - killing his student - his being so traumatized by it was a good sign. I'd think less of him if he'd been able to shrug it off. If he really believed anyone who criticized his idol deserved to die.

His wife didn't know he's Immortal. I couldn't have let him go back to her, not remembering anything, just accepting what she told him about their life. Even if he was never attacked by another Immortal...when we have injuries we know will either heal super-quickly or "kill" us, we almost always manage to get someplace where we won't be seen. We know what's at stake. An amnesiac Immortal, who didn't understand that, could expose all of us.

I couldn't have convinced him he was Immortal, and taught him how to cope with it, while not pressing him to remember his past. The memory of his having killed Donnelly might have come back to him at any time, in any situation. Again, a threat to all of us.

And the police knew he'd killed Donnelly! If he'd been arrested, whether or not he remembered everything, it would have been too late to get away.

Should I have taken his head, when he asked me to?

Why did I refuse? Was it because I so loathed what he'd done that I didn't want his Quickening? Should I have been more merciful?

Or was I right to be cautious? Not so long ago, I took a risk with Coltec's Quickening, and lived to regret it.

His friend Coltec had been the victim of a Dark Quickening. He'd beheaded him as an act of mercy, hoping that intention would prevent his suffering the effects of a Dark Quickening. Unfortunately, it hadn't.

I only became myself again - really, only survived - because Methos was old enough and wise enough to be able to help me...

If an Immortal truly wants to die, there are ways to commit suicide - like throwing oneself in front of a train. Warren can do that, if he chooses. But I think he'll realize - as I have now - that his being so affected by what he'd done proves there's still good in him. Hopefully, he'll never kill for a reason like that again.

x

x

x

Deon greeted him with a handshake, led him into his office, and encouraged him to shed his winter coat and boots. Anticipating that, he'd left his sword aboard the barge. They talked for about fifteen minutes. MacLeod did most of the talking, earnestly delivering his prepared explanation of that "casual friendship" with Goddard.

He wasn't prepared for what came next.

"I have news for you, Monsieur MacLeod," Deon said smoothly. "We actually have captured the fugitive! Several days ago."

MacLeod knew the blood must be draining from his face. Trying to keep his voice steady, he demanded, "Then why did you ask me to come here? Under false pretenses..."

My God. What has Cochrane told them?

Deon smiled. But MacLeod saw it as a sadistic smile. The smile of a torturer about to shatter the next bone.

"As might have been expected, he denies having killed anyone. And his account of your acquaintance matches up with yours. He mentions the same times, same places. Describes you as a casual friend...and a good man."

So he didn't betray me. "Then why-?"

"I used him as an excuse to bring you here, Monsieur MacLeod. You're under arrest."

MacLeod leapt to his feet - just as a half-dozen men rushed into the room and grabbed him.

"Under arrest for what?"

"For being in France illegally."

"Wh-what?" He'd killed Immortals in France - even, recently, a mortal. Always in the belief that the killings were justified, save for the one - tragic - case in which he'd been possessed by the Dark Quickening. Killings had gone unnoticed, but someone was challenging his residence? Going to these lengths to do it?

"That's...ridiculous! I've lived here, on and off, for years. I'm an American, with a valid U.S. passport!"

Deon was shaking his head. "The passport itself is legitimate, but you made false statements when you applied for it. Produced false records that indicated you'd been born in the U.S., orphaned at an early age..."

"That's the truth!" It wasn't, of course; but the forger had been so skilled that MacLeod couldn't imagine anyone's doubting his work.

"No." Deon's eyes bored into him. "The real truth is that you were born in Scotland. In or near a place called Glenfinnan.

"In 1592."