DISCLAIMER:
I don't own Joe, Amy or Methos (nor Mac, Richie or Amanda). I've just used
them here for my own entertainment (and yours) All I'm getting out of this
is a little fun, certainly no money. The
idea of an Immortal Joe Dawson is JoLayne's, as are all other persons mentioned
by name in this story
I'd
like to thank Jo not only for letting me continue the storyline, but also
for her betareading of this story and making some sense out of my sentences.
Constructive
criticism is welcome at xwingace@fanfix.zzn.com.
If all you want to do is praise this story into the heavens or grind it
into the dust, write a review.
NOTE:
Takes place years after the story, "Stand By Me 2: Artificial Immortality"
by JoLayne, archived on fanfiction.net and also on her web site: www.geocities.com/enyajo
~~~~~
She
lay in the hospital bed, a frail old woman of 92 years. So old. To him,
she still looked like she did when they had met for the first time--almost
three quarters of a century ago. Then she was an independent, smart-mouthed
but sweet and handsome young woman. She had walked up to him and said:
"I'm your daughter."
He'd
been surprised and confused, but he'd accepted it and had been happy. It
wasn't as if it was impossible for him to have kids, he'd just thought
he'd never gotten round to it. When it turned out that he had, he loved
the result and regretted the years he'd missed with her. He'd done everything
in the later years to make up for it, for as long as it was possible.
After
his heart attack and subsequent stay in a rather suspect nursing home--where
he'd been a lab rat in research aimed at making mortals Immortal--Amy's
persistence set him free with the help of Mac and Methos. His freedom had
only intensified his efforts to be with her, to support her. But, after
a few years he had to retreat more and more. He had to keep out of sight
of the Watchers in general and those that knew him in particular, unless
they noticed something. Noticed that he hadn't aged.
He'd
died in cleaning up the mess that had come out of the discovery of Clarissa
Barrymore's experiments. To everybody's surprise--not in the least his--he
had come back to life again. Amy had been unconscious at the time, almost
mortally wounded by a bullet like the one that had killed him. Only because
Methos performed CPR and Arthur Pangent called 911, she survived.
He
hadn't realised fully what his reviving meant at the time; his only thoughts
were of her survival. Only after he knew that she was going to live and
he could think again did the full impact hit him. Thank whatever deity
there might be for friends at such a time. Mac
and Pangent kept in touch; Methos had pulled one of his disappearing tricks
again. He'd decided then that it was better if Amy didn't know his true
circumstance in life. He had never after told her what exactly had happened.
To
prevent her finding out, he had to keep a distance from her; someone who
should be nearing eighty couldn't look as if he was in his mid fifties.
People would get suspicious. No one could know the truth that he was Immortal.
Any Immortal who found out about him would think him an easy target. Mac
had taught him how to use a sword, but someone without his own legs would
almost certainly be on the losing side of a duel. More importantly, the
Watchers would not look kindly on another Immortal in their ranks,
with possibly permanently lethal consequences if they found out. It tore
his heart out, but he had to let her go. She couldn't be a physical part
of his life; he could only retain her memory in his mind. Distance or no,
he'd tried to keep tabs on where she was and how she was doing. In that
endeavour, he had been generally successful. When he heard that she was
dying he had to be there. He had bluffed his way into her room by posing
as her son, not without feeling some of the irony in that.
Now,
he sat by her side, held her hand, waited for her to wake up, maybe for
the last time. He needed to look in her eyes and say goodbye. She was hooked
up to all kinds of apparatus. She looked not unlike Gerald Nedemeier had
as he laid beside Joe in the clinic. It must have been the way he looked
at that time too. Nothing untoward was going on now, just nature running
it's course. The hospital was run by the Watchers and had been checked
out by Methos himself. After the Barrymore incident, the Watchers had completely
given up on any medical research. Amy was safe.
"Dawson,
what are you doing here? Do you even know what risks you're taking?"
The
voice sounded haughty, British and arrogant. Dawson turned around and looked
at the speaker. The man was dressed
in a tailored dark blue suit, had a long coat over his left arm and held
a hat in his left hand. His blonde hair had been cut short. His stance
was military, even regal, with his cold grey eyes staring down an impressive
nose at Joe.
That
nose. That nose had earned its owner the nickname Falco when he had been
sold as a slave after his capture by Caesar after the siege of Massilia.
A hundred years later, at the height of the Roman Empire, it had given
him the cognomen Catonianus, because of his resemblance to Cato, Caesar's
nemesis, who had also had such a beak for a nose. A nose that would even
now infallibly identify its owner no matter how much the rest of his features
were changed. An Immortal could dye his hair, wear contact lenses, change
his accent, his style of clothing, but physical features were almost impossible
to hide, especially that nose. Methos' nose. Fortunately for him, up until
recently there had been no pictures of him, because hiding would have been
impossible.
"I'm
taking risks? What about you? Your face is better known here than mine.
I'm just the 'son' of one of the patients. Adam. They don't know
about me, they do know about you. Even with that new outfit, unless you
get a nose job, you won't fool them for long."
The
old Immortal's stance broke down as he smiled. When he spoke again, most
of the arrogance and a lot of the accent was gone. He still looked different,
but this was the Methos that Joe knew.
"It's
Noah now. Noah Ryerson. The last of the Watchers who have seen me in life
is lying in that bed, about to die. I erased my picture from the Watcher
Archive as soon as I could get into it. I also deleted the Adam Pierson/Methos
link, and made sure not to leave any unaltered copies. Methos is a myth
again; Adam Pierson is dead. Poor sod was beheaded by an unknown Immortal."
"An
unknown Immortal? Who filed that report?"
"Adam's
Watcher did. Noah Ryerson."
"No
way. You did it again? You managed to get yourself assigned to looking
for yourself again?"
"Hiding
in plain sight is still the best way not to be found. Despite your sneer
at my nose, not many people actually noticed that it's remarkably similar
to Adam Pierson's. Deleting his picture might have had something to do
with that, of course."
"So
why are you here? Just checking up on whether the last mortal to recognise
you is really dying? Or do you actually have business with Amy over anything
Watcher related?"
"There's
no need to insult me, Joe, or to get angry. I liked Amy. She was a good
friend. When I heard she that was dying, alone, I thought the least I could
do was check up on her and keep her company. Now that her 'son' is here
it isn't necessary, so I'll be leaving. Nice seeing you again."
"If
there's no need for insult, then don't be insulted. Amy can use all the
company she can get. I can use all the company I can get. Stay,
please."
The
older immortal pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of Amy's
bed. As he sat down, Amy woke up and turned to look at him. "Adam? What
are you doing here?" She coughed. "I thought you'd fallen of the world
again."
Methos
seemed genuinely surprised that she recognised him, but managed a reply.
"Well, I had to check on my favourite Watcher. How did you recognise me?"
The
old woman breathed, trembling, almost like a sigh. "Oh, can't miss the
nose."
Joe
almost chuckled as Methos groaned. "See?" He told the other man.
Amy
turned towards the new sound. When she saw who the previously unnoticed
speaker was, her pupils widened and she started mumbling to herself. "No,
no, it can't be. I must be seeing things. Must be getting demented at my
old age. This is impossible. This can't be. Father?"
Joe
patted her hand as the information seeped into her mind. It was cruel to
reveal his own true nature while she was on her deathbed. Not seeing her
for one last time would have emotionally killed him. "There is nothing
wrong with your mind, honey. It is me."
"But
this is impossible. You can't be here, not like this."
"I'm
sitting here, aren't I?"
"But,
you can't be Immortal. Immortals can't have kids or everything in my life
has been a lie."
Methos
interrupted. "It hasn't been. As far as I can find out, Joe really is your
father. I know that Immortals can't have kids. I tried often enough."
He looked up at Joe. "If anybody's life has been a lie, it's been his for
the past sixty years or so."
"Really
nice, old man. Blame me."
"I
have every right to blame you. You made your decision against my advice.
You left her."
"Don't
get me started about living lies, Adam. But we're losing the subject
here."
Amy
had sunk back in her pillows. If possible, she looked even older and sicker
than she had before. But there was nothing wrong with her mind or her memory.
"Barrymore. The experiments worked?" She asked.
Joe
nodded. "Perfectly," said Methos "She even managed to make herself a full
Immortal before I caught up with her. She didn't last very long, though.
She wasn't too adept with a sword."
"But
the experiments hadn't gone that far on either me or Gerald." Joe continued.
"You know what happened when Pangent cut me in the lab, so I thought nothing
had happened to me. When you were shot when we went to check up on 'Martina
Barry', I did die. Then I came back."
"Without
the Immortal sensation." Methos decided to interject. "So in those experiments,
there was some sort of transition state where you're no longer mortal,
but not yet fully Immortal either. Apparently we got Joe and Gerald out
just before they could reach that transition state."
"Gerald
too?" Amy asked.
"Probably,
but he's disappeared. The Watcher database lists him as dead. I haven't
seen him in sixty years. It's very likely that he's running around somewhere,
pretty much like I've been doing. Hiding from Watchers and Immortals."
"You're
not hiding. You're here."
Joe
snorted. "Yeah, and as soon as they realise that you don't have a son and
show my picture around here to see if anyone recognises me, I'm going to
be in a lot of trouble." He softened, looked down on his daughter. "But
I couldn't let you die without seeing you again. I just couldn't. Forgive
me?"
"Forgive
you for what?"
"For
not telling you earlier. For letting you hang out there, without so much
as a word for all those years. For not being the father I could have been."
The
old woman sank back even deeper into the pillows. She was visibly getting
weaker now. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I
was afraid. Confused. I figured it was safer for me if no one knew. The
only ones who did know were Mac, Methos and Pangent. I couldn't tell you,
Watchers might have found out. Not even Richie or Amanda knew."
Amy
managed a weak smile. "They're in for a big surprise when they run into
you sometime."
"Amy,
you shouldn't talk so much anymore. Save your strength," Methos said, seeing
how weak she had become.
Amy
almost laughed out loud. "And who made you the doctor here?" Weak, she
sunk back into the pillows.
"Hippocrates,"
came his serious reply. "I mean it Amy. You're sapping your strength."
Amy
laid down, exhausted. "I'm dying anyway. Those few extra minutes won't
do anymore good."
A
sound that had been on the background suddenly registered in Joe's ears.
It was the beeping of the heart-rate monitor. It seemed to slow.
"Father."
The sudden whisper from Amy was almost impossible to hear. Joe leaned in
close. "I forgive you."
The
beeping changed into a steady tone. Methos jumped up and pressed the button
to summon a doctor. The doctor came, but all he could do was pronounce
the time of death. Joe sat there, unmoving. Even after the doctor had left.
Finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.
"It's
life Joe. It hurts, but moving on is the only way to keep breathing. Come
on, I'll buy you a beer."
Joe
really didn't feel like it, but he knew that a joke was called for. "It's
about time you started doing that. You have such a long back tab I'd never
have to worry about money again if you paid it."
Methos
laughed. "Fat chance. You don't own the bar anymore, remember?"
"Yeah,
but that doesn't mean that you don't owe me." Joe stood, and picked up
the cane he didn't really need anymore, but that hid a surprise if someone
decided that an old, crippled man alone was an easy target.
Methos
looked at the cane as they walked out the door. "Couldn't do without one?"
"Not
really. Let's say I'll never need a long coat. Lets get that beer."
THE
END
