The Truth in Justice
Eight months came and went since Duncan MacLeod killed Liam O'Rourke and said good-bye to his friends. He left the barge in Joe's care and flew off to South America.
As the New Year passed and spring came ever closer, he felt pulled back to Paris. Reflections of that past still troubled him.
No welcome home greeted him, any friends or party. He opened the barge back up on the evening when immortal history would change.
Chapter One
He awoke up from a complex dream that morning and sat on the edge of the bed running his fingers through the lengthening brown hair that now brushed his shoulders.
The air was sweet with the hint of flowers from a vendor near-by and an early spring breeze was blowing in through the open portal.
It was now two years exactly to the day the death of Richie Ryan.
As he dressed in slightly worn denim jeans and a blue pullover shirt, he took no sword for this errand.
Looking around the space called home, the simple barge with his books and artwork. He was glad to return, but the sparseness stared back at him, mocking his loneliness.
He straightened the bed and skipped his usual breakfast. This task he wanted to finish quickly. Picking out a short leather jacket, he put it on and locked the door behind him.
Less than an hour later, he was walking amongst rows of trees and head stones. Duncan was almost at Richie's gravesite when he had that feeling that an immortal was nearby and the uneasiness that put him on alert. He stopped and stayed behind a tree to look around.
There, sitting on the ground crossed legged by Richie's grave…was a woman. She was wearing dark clothes and her sword lay on the ground beside her.
Her head was slightly bowed and light brown hair covered part of her face. She did not look around or acknowledge he was there watching her. Holding a rose to her face, she kissed it and laid it down near the grave marker.
Fingering the metal emblem in his pocket, he waited patiently, giving her as much time as she needed for privacy.
After five minutes, she stood up, picked up her sword to slide it into the harness on her back. Without warning, she walked away without looking back as her long strides quickly took her out of range.
Caught off guard, MacLeod thought of going after her to stop her and talk but it did not seem right to run across the cemetery grounds.
Instead, he went over to Richie's grave and looked down to where she sat. Observing the single white rose and a photograph, he knelt down and picked them up.
Looking at the picture of Richie sitting on a motorcycle holding the woman made him curious.
On the back of the photograph he read, "All my hopes and dreams went with you, Love Beth."
Duncan studied the photograph again and wondered why his friend had never mentioned this woman before. He had talked of other girlfriends, why not this one.
He then put the photograph in his pocket and held the rose up to smell it. Her tears on the petals moistened his cheek. Then Duncan let out a long sigh.
He closed his eyes, seeking some small sign of forgiveness. "Richie," he whispered, "I'm sorry." He could not say it enough times.
He took the motorcycle keepsake out of his pocket to bury next to the marble headstone. "Ride well my brother." He said quietly, pushing it into the dirt.
Standing up, he walked slowly away feeling the heavy heart within, still holding the rose.
The sky clouded over as Duncan drove over to Joe Dawson's place, Le Blues Bar. Passing the many beautiful parks and gardens so prevalent in Paris along the way, his mind was not on their beauty.
Thinking back over the past year, Duncan thought of the scandal that had changed their relationship. Now it was time to pay him a visit. It had been too long.
When he arrived there, it was still early afternoon so he went around back and found the door unlocked. After a quick rap upon the door, he went inside closing it behind him. The darkness within matched his mood.
Joe seemed to be expecting his visit and called out to him, "I'm back here." He was sitting in the storage room browsing through some containers.
From the doorway, Duncan noticed there were some of Richie's things in boxes scattered about the room.
Remarking as he walked in he said, "Seems this is the day to reminisce." Then he sat down near the door on an old chair.
Joe Dawson looked older than his years with his salt and pepper like hair. Nevertheless, his clear blue eyes still showed his strong desire for life.
Joe smiled a greeting to his friend, but it came out faint. He said, "I've kept these things so long, I don't know what to do with them." He then dropped the personal treasures back into a nearby box.
Mac looked at the odd assortment that made up the young immortal's life. All he had taken were Richie's riding gloves. Deciding against picking through the items, he held out the photograph taken from the grave.
"Did Richie ever tell you of an immortal named Beth?" he asked with expectation.
Dawson took the photograph from him and studied it closely, read the back then studied the front some more before handing it back to him.
"I remember Richie did tell me of one particular immortal woman he met. He did not mention her name, but he did describe her pretty well. It could be her," replied Joe, giving a quick smile.
"What did he say about her?" asked Mac, leaning in closer.
In a reminiscing tone, Joe answered him, "During his travels, Richie said he came upon a battle and watched out of curiosity being impressed by this woman's style. Afterwards he said he introduced himself and asked her if she could show him some moves."
Mac interrupted, "I trained him to fight well enough."
"Yes, you did," Joe agreed continuing, "But her style was so unique. Richie mentioned never seen its manner before. When she relented, he stayed with her for a few months. He said he learned a great deal about defense fighting and he had hinted that they were more than just friends."
He handed the photograph back to Joe and inquired, "What made her so special? See what you can find out in your Watcher files."
"Sorry Mac, I don't think I should," stated Joe not accepting the picture. Then he asked, "Why the sudden interest?"
He replied, "I saw her at Richie's grave this morning. I want to know more that's all." He insisted while turning the photograph over in his hand.
Joe stayed firm, "Then you should have talked to her when you had the chance. So track her down yourself." He stood up feeling a little unsteady from the hours of sitting.
"All right I will, but can you at least give me her full name, please?" asked MacLeod, standing up and holding the photograph out once more.
Joe looked uncertain, measuring up his need to know. He relented taking the photograph mumbling, "I've spoiled you."
Mac gave a grateful smile and his eyes crinkled at the corners telling him simply, "Thanks Joe."
They left the storage room and locked the door to shut up the memories once more. Joe Dawson went limping into the next room where he kept his private computer files of the Watchers Chronicles stored.
Duncan MacLeod walked tiredly into the customer area of the bar and sat at a table, looking around he noticed few things had changed. The pictures of the great blues artist still lined the wall. Most of them personalized to Joe.
The air smelled faintly of cigar smoke from the night before. The small stage for the band held only a few chairs and stands.
Joe took his time researching what information to give Mac. "Not too much, but just enough." He thought. After scanning the photograph, he found a match. Scratching the end of his short beard, he read the screen.
"What is he going to get himself into?" Joe said to himself while printing up the pages. Standing up he slowly made his way to the other room.
"Why do you want to look for her anyway?" asked Joe, sitting down at the same table with Mac. He symbolically drops the photograph between them.
Mac looked reserved, but replied, "I just want to explain to her what had happened to Richie, maybe try and clear up the past."
"Oh, not because she is good looking," teased Joe, watching Mac smile back.
"This is it," clearing his throat, he began reading, "Elizabeth Windsor, A.K.A. Bethany Wallace are the only names I have and her whereabouts just say she's in Paris. That is until I update my files later."
Duncan pondered this and then inquired, "Is that all you're going to tell me?" He looked at Joe with appeal in his brown eyes.
"I'll make you a deal," Joe bargained, seeing his weakness, "I'll give you what stories I have, true or not, if you help me?"
"Agreed," he said holding out his hand, "Now tell me what you have."
Joe laughed at Mac's impatience and began reading. "Okay, here goes; it seems she has a two hundred year history, but parts of it are blank. She was good at hiding. Surfaced in 1790 and spotted by our people in Devonshire, but stayed out of all entanglements that went on during the late 1800's in England. She stayed at a Scotland convent for twelve years. She carries an ugly sword, so named by one watcher. As for challengers, she fights like crazy until she wins."
Joe looked up from the paper, "It is quite a feat to go over two hundred years as an immortal and never take a head or to lose yours."
MacLeod questioned, "How do you know she has never taken a head if part of her history is missing?"
"All the reports say she refuses their head and remains a loner." Joe went on to say, "and so far no opponent ever went back for more." Joe concluded, "Last of all she keeps no friends. That was until Richie showed up in 1995."
Mac asked him, "That's all you have? What about details like who she really is?" He snatched the papers to look for any more facts.
"What do you need details for? But a deal is a deal, right?" said Joe taking back the papers.
Mac argued, "That still doesn't prove that she's never had a first quickening." He was trying to decide if finding her was worth the trouble as he was picking up the photograph off the table to look at it again.
Joe replied, "Who knows? If Richie knew why she won't take a head, he didn't tell me." He waited a moment for MacLeod to be ready to hear his request.
As he thought this information over he finally asked, "So what's bothering you, Joe?"
"It's Amy, she signed up to go back into Watcher training." He answered not looking happy about it.
He remarked, "Isn't that to be expected? She did get the assignment before she was ready."
Joe nodded and remained quiet for a moment before he spoke. "Yes, but the specialized field she requested was counter intelligence."
Mac whistled his surprise, "Why would that interest her?"
"She wouldn't tell me." Joe said, with worry aging his once youthful face.
He speculated, "That first assignment must have changed her more than she let on." Thinking back and remembering a sinister Morgan Walker.
Full of torn emotions Joe said, "I'm confiding in you as a friend because I need your help."
MacLeod nodded for him to continue and leaned in closer to mirror the seriousness in his friend.
"I went by to see Laura Brennan, Amy's mom, just as a friend. Well, she was actually glad to see me and we had a great time catching up on old news." Joe smiled slightly, "That was until Amy walked in. She pretended not to care, but there in front of her was her mom and me renewing our friendship, just talking." He shook his head sadly.
Duncan asked, "Why should that bother her?"
"It shouldn't have, but all she saw was her mom's infidelity from 22 years ago. And she decided it was my fault." Taking out a small picture of Amy with her mom, he showed it to Mac.
"I assume you've already tried reasoning with her?" MacLeod asked, looking at the picture seeing the resemblance to Joe.
Amy had his blue eyes and the same smile with the dimple in the cheek. Her short brown hair that framed her face gave her the appearance of being younger than she was.
"Mac, if you could have seen her at the last Watcher meeting you would know what I am feeling. Her face was hardened and she showed no reaction at all when I told her I loved her." Shaking his head, he threw his hand up in a gesture of surrender.
"But you're her father. How can she resent you like that?" He said, trying to understand with what his friend felt.
Joe shook his head pleading, "I want you to find her and tell her I'm not giving up and to give me a chance. I'll do whatever it takes." He added, "You owe me one."
Mac nodded and promised, "Anything for you, Joe. If you get me the address of the camp she's at then I'll find a way to see her."
Joe smiled at his friend's promise saying, "Thanks Mac, this means a lot to me."
"You're welcome," he replied, "Right after I find Elizabeth and tell her what happened to Richie."
Joe asked, "How soon will that be? I'll try and get her location for you later."
"Can you do that because I'm thinking tomorrow is a good time." He looked at the other picture that had him intrigued. She was just an ordinary looking girl with light brown hair and an oval face. However, her sea grey eyes were such an unusual color.
Pocketing the rose with the photograph Mac then spoke up, "I'm going to have lunch will you join me for old times?"
Joe smiled, "Sure if you're buying, but I can't leave right now."
Mac proposed, "Tell you what, I'll get some take out and bring it back. We can eat here." Standing up he pushed the chair in.
"I think that will work," agreed Joe also standing up and stretching his back and arms.
"Then I will be right back," said Mac going to the back door. Giving Joe the thumbs up signal, he went out and shut the door.
The rain was just starting and he looked up to judge the darkness of the clouds. He decided against an umbrella, not minding a little rain.
He slid into the front seat of the green SUV and thought about what Joe had told him. "An immortal for two hundred years and never killed is a rare thing."
.