Mac Surprise

Nothing is owned by me- but I do wish. Guess the crossover.

"Dawson, I need bail money."

"Whatever happened to 'hi, Joe? How are you?"

"Hi, Joe, " Amanda's voice parrotted. "How are you. I need bail money."

"Where are you, how much, etc. And how'd I get so lucky? What about that ex cop or Mac?"

"Nick won't forgive me, and he was a passing quirk. Nothing more. Mac- Mac's in jail with me."

Joe choked on his coffee. "Mac is in jail?"

"Uh huh." It sounded less than convincing, but why lie about something like that? "I thought you could call our OLD friend."

Joe started to say something smart alecky, then considered. Methos would pay good money to see Mac in jail. The overgrown Scottish boyscout would never live it down. He shouldn't be so gleeful, but Macleod had always been sooo self righteous.

"Give me your locale and we'll be down there. And how much?"

"I'm cheap, just a grand or so- Mac and his friend- a bit more."

"Friend? How much more?"

"Fifty between them."

"Fifty thousand?"

Amanda had to hold the phone away from her head. "Dawson, calm down. It's Adam's money."

"Precisely how - what are you in for?"

"I'm just charged with aiding and abetting. You know that Amanda Rebecca Rose would never do more than become entangled in something to help an old friend. "

"Ha."

"Don't be rude. They're timing me. Mac is in on - stealing 8 billion dollars."

Silence.

"Dawson? Joeseph?"

"Eight Billion? B not M. Billion."

In the background, she heard a voice. "Joe- what the devil is wrong? Mac didn't get whacked did he?"

"Put Adam on,'' Amanda suggested.

"Yeah. Right. We'll be right over."

Click buzz.

Escorted back to her cell, she glared at her companions. "I'm not sure he believed me."

"I wonder why? You seem so honest," the woman noted with a sniff.

Amanda waved angrily in her direction. "See- I told you - tyros don't belong on this kind of thing."

"Ginny is quite capable," the mild Scotch voice intoned.

"I'm sure, but that doesn't help much out here. Not into that kind of thing myself," Amanda said too sweetly.

Mac stepped between the two women before someone got hurt.

An hour later, Joe Dawson and Adam Pierson, attorney at law, stepped inside the New York police station.

"You can only see one at a time," the desk officer informed them.

"Miss Rose then," Adam said. Under his breath, "so she can sign the mortgage papers on Sanctuary."

When Amanda entered the visitors' room, it was with confidence and ease that a prisoner just should not have. Then again, when had Amanda ever been like anyone but herself?

"Hello, darlings," she beamed like a queen holding court.

"Miss- Rose is it?" Methos said carefully.

"Lately," she smiled. "It's okay, Donnie, you can go on back to your post. We'll be fine."

The guards left. They left!

"She's taken over the joint," Joe shook his head.

"Convenient," Methos agreed. "So, Mac is in jail? And if you can dismiss the guards, why do we have to bail you out,- just wiggle something at them and leave."

She gave him a look. "Dismissing peons is not as complex as getting out. Yes, Mac is in jail with me and some tart he picked up."

"Who besides you?" Methos goaded, but so dryly it was hard to catch unless you knew him.

"Funny, old man. Just get us out."

"No, I want to see the great boyscout behind bars," Methos said. "Legitimately, not some cockamaney frame up that some one has set up to keep his head attached."

"Like your method was better?"

"Children, " Joe sighed. Why was it that the youngest one there had to be referee?

Methos rose abruptly and spoke to the guard in a low tone neither could hear.

Sauntering back, he said, "We've got permission to visit all three of you in the cell. "

"Mac will hate that," Amanda said quickly. "Pride and all that."

"Pride is a sin, remember? We're doing him a favor, getting that exorcised," Methos grinned as Amanda was led away, glaring with every step.

When the visitors reached the holding cell, Amanda was standing at the front, obviously trying to distract them from seeing the two people, or at least one of them behind her.

However...

"That is not Duncan Macleod," Joe hissed.

"Or even Connor," Methos added, "unless he's suddenly aged."

"Did I ever say Duncan or Connor MacLEOD?" Amanda sniffed. "I said Mac. This is Mac."

Methos frowned, looking closer at the sullen man who had yet to speak. "In a pig's eye. That is Juan Lobo Villa Ramirez."

"He's dead," Joe argued. "I can show you the chronicle."

"He's right here, and quite alive, thank you," 'Mac ' growled. "I escaped. Kurgan had never met me, so when he killed my other apprentice, discretion became the best part of valor."

"What's a Kurgan?" the girl asked.

"Nothing for public discussion, darling," Amanda smiled too nicely. "Since we're making introductions- Juan goes by the name Mac these days. She is Gin, his partner," her slight emphasis on the last word made Methos grin wickedly. "Joseph is our den father, at least in public. And what is your name these days, dearie?"

"Still Adam Pierson. Really, Manda, try some gingko."

Adam Pierson, aka Methos, the oldest Immortal, was quite fortunate that looks were not swords, or his head would be gone.

Joe nudged him, "Is she," meaning Gin, "y'know?"

"Can't tell, too many of us here."

"Not yet," Mac, Ramirez, whoever he was, rumbled. "Which is why we need you to bail us out."

Methos' eyes opened a bit wider. "Well if she is then just- " he tried to find words that wouldn't betray them.

"She doesn't even know," Ramirez hissed, moving closer to the bars.

"I told him that, but listen to moi, of course not," Amanda scowled.

"Your face will freeze like that, dear," Ramirez warned. "The game is harsh, would you want to be thrust in if there was a choice?"

"Beats being jailed or dead of old age," Methos shrugged. "Yeah, I would. If she doesn't like it, put her in a convent."

The look Ramirez gave him was priceless.

"Okay. Okay. But if you are billionaires, I'm adding interest to this loan," Methos sighed. "Juan, or whoever you are- you have seen nearly as much as I- her being put in your life means she can't avoid that. Coincidences don't happen."

Mac/Ramirez sighed. "I'd hoped for a better way. "

"I hoped to be a football star, " Joe snapped. "Deal with it."

Amanda noticed a movement behind them. "Guys, our less benevolent watchers are getting antsy. Just handle things or something."

"Can you get us out of the morgue if we do it her," with a jerk of his head at Amanda, "way?" Ramirez asked.

"Of course," Methos said. "Do we get a share?"

"We'll negotiate."

"See ya in court. Let's go, Joe."

"All right, yes."

Methos nodded, then spoke louder. "Amanda, I can't believe you're asking either of us for money. No. Sorry, darling. Don't have it. If you get out without grey hair, I'll take you out sometime."

"As if!" she snorted. "I'd rather date Ivan the terrible."

"You did," Ramirez scoffed uner his breath.

Gin looked on in total amazement. "I thought you said he would get us out."

"She lies," Ramirez sighed. "In fact, I can't stand her lying any longer."

"One more step and your girlfriend is dead," Amanda warned.

He stepped, and the knife Amanda had hidden very well came out, slicing through Gin's carotoid artery.

"That was a new dress," Ramirez protested.

"And I can't take your bad accent another minute," Amanda went on, into her part now, as she plunged the knife into him before the guards could come and stop her. Then, in a dramatic gesture, she slit her own throat, knowing it would take long enough to heal that she'd not come out of it at a bad time.

Half a block away, Methos looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Oh, look, the ambulances. Guess it worked. "

Joe sighed. "Should I notify Russell Nash?"

"Nah. He'll be royally po'd at 'Mac' for lying to him about being dead dead. He sulks worse than Duncan Macleod. Do you think that girl, Gin, is really dating him?"

"Why- you planning on making a try?" Joe laughed.

"Why not? Unless he's taken her. The last time we fought over a woman was not pretty."

"That's not in either chronicle."

"Yes. I left that part out. "

"You lost. "

"I didn't say that."

"Then why'd you not mention it, old man?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Yes, because. Simple. Now, start the car. We have bodies to break out."

Methos' cell phone belayed further conversation. "Oh, yes, officer. She did? Told her to get treatment for that claustraphobia thing. She has not family- I'll see about funeral arrangements. Thanks."

Breaking the three Immortals out of the morgue was a relatively SOP procedure. No surprises. An hour later, they were all sitting in the back of Joe's latest Jazz Bar, trying to explain what had taken place.

"You two are immortal," Gin said slowly, trying to put pieces together.

"You actually, four, counting me and you," Methos corrected.

"And he's not Mac."

"I legally changed my name, so yes, I am Mac," Ramirez argued. "To honor my former student, Connor Macleod."

"And you and you thought you were getting Connor out of jail?"

"No, we thought we would get to see the overgrown Scots boyscout, Duncan MacLeod, in jail," Methos grinned. "Same clan, fifty years apart."

"Which is relatively rare, two Immortal kinsman," Ramirez added. "But I didn't know Duncan. I'd already been presumed beheaded by the time Duncan showed up."

"Yeah, how'd that happen?" Joe asked.

"Exactly who would you be? I've wanted to ask, but the time has not presented itself."

"Mac- Duncan Macleod's watcher."

"A Watcher of what?"

"Very long story," Methos sighed, "But it's a great cover. Now why did Connor think you are dead?"

"Right before that night, a young student of mine showed up at the place where Connor and Heather lived. Connor was hunting, and I was there with Heather, just talking. This student had adopted my style of dress, which explains a bit. He had seen Kurgan coming this way and come to warn us. I left Blackie in charge of keeping Heather safe, and went to find Connor. I was lost in the storm, struck by lightening. When I woke, it was over. Kurgan took my students' head thinking him me, and hurt Heather. Connor believed me dead, and I was shamed to have not been there. So that ended my time as Juan Ramirez in Scotland."

"How did you and those two hook up?" Joe asked.

"Gin found me a few years back - I'd acquired a reputation as a master thief. She had plans to steal several billion dollars, and I went along for the ride. We only kept one billion, and got away with it, until someone counted the money we returned. So, they've been after us ever since. Amanda approached us to help steal some kind of painting, and in return she'd use her hacking skills to legitimize our fortunes."

"For a cut," Amanda added.

"When we got caught, they linked Gin and I with the prior theft and Amanda was guilty by association."

"I don't get all this Immortal stuff," Gin interuptted.

"Long, long ago, the Game began, in which there would be Immortals, men and women who don't die unless the head comes away from the neck, releasing the power of the Quickening into the victor. We march through time, taking heads, taking the life force of others, until the end, the Gathering. In the end there can be only one," Ramirez sighed.

"So this was a set up to take my head?" Gin yelped, and looked as if she'd bolt.

"No. We are all bound by the rules, but for the most part, we do not actively hunt others. If confronted, we will fight, but the prize is something distant to most of us."

"There are exceptions, which is why we all know how to fight," Amanda added.

"What prize?" Gin asked, a mercenary gleam in her eyes.

"No one knows," Methos replied. "Some say, mortality, which frankly does not seem worth it. Some say all the wisdom and power of all the Immortals ever, but there are some of you guys I really don't want in my head for all time, and since some are lost, such as Darius, that's invalid now."

"Darius was taken?" Ramirez gasped. "When- who? Has he been avenged?"

"A mortal took him," Methos sighed.

"He's just gone then? Damn it."

"Who is Darius?"

"The best of us," Ramirez cursed. "The one pure soul among us. He lived on Holy Ground, he should have been safe, forever."

"We don't fight on Holy Ground, " Amanda explained.

"Why?"

"Did you ever read the book of Job?" Methos asked.

"How is that relevant?" Gin asked, crossing her arms.

"Just answer the question."

"Where you Bildad?" Joe whispered. "The Shoeite?"

Methos ignored him.

"Yeah."

"Remember, God never answered Job's why questions or anyone else's."

"If you tell me he's God, I'm going to have a serious faith crisis."

"I'm not," Methos said, pointedly not responding to Joe's snickering. "However, He is a good example to follow, no? Why questions don't generally have answers. Some things are just because, but if you want a good why- Pompeii. Last battle that took place on Holy Ground was in a temple in Pompeii 79 AD."

"BCE," Gin corrected.

"I prefer AD. Political correctness has never been a forte' of mine."

"How old are all of you?"

"I'm not saying," Joe said.

"Joe's mortal, it's rude to ask him," Amanda scolded.

"I'm approximately three thousand," Ramirez said heavily. "Younger than some."

"Mere child, I'm only a thousand," Amanda laughed.

"Eleven hundred," Joe corrected.

"Pfft."

"Him?"

"Who me?" Methos said innocently. "Just a kid."

"He's shy about his age," Amanda snickered. "Don't worry, you'll grow, sonny."

"How do you find each other, do you just kill someone and hope they wake up?" Gin asked, turning green as she did.

"Of course not," Methos said. "Your knife, Joeseph."

"One day, I'll get used to this, " but he handed him a pen knife, watching as Methos sliced his hand open only to have blue lightening close the wound.

"We can feel that power in others," Ramirez explained. "Right now, Amanda and Adam are damping it, but were you to walk out and come in, you would feel a power, an electric wind pushing through your soul. It is present in pre immortals as well. To a less extent."

"This is insane."

"True, but we're stuck with it, even if we wanted to stay out of the game, there are others who don't. They don't care if we don't fight, they'll just take our head and if one of them wins, mankind will face terrible evil."

"There are not many rules," Amanda said, picking up where Ramirez left off. "Once a fight is begun, no interference. No witnesses except for them." She glanced at Joe. "But you aren's supposed to know about them, so you won't see them. No Holy Ground fights. Swords only, no cheating with a gun or the like. There can be only one."

"Swords?"

"I've quite a collection, Gin. We'll get you one, unless you wish to spend your life hiding on Holy Ground," Ramirez said.

"Didn't work so well for some," she said callously.

"That loophole's closed," Joe said flatly. "The killer is dead."

"Several times over," Methos might have muttered.

"What is it like?" Gin asked nervously. "The- the," she fingered the edge of her neck.

"Indescribable," Methos breathed. "It's incredible, charging through every nerve. Terrible pleasure and the worst pain combined. Fused."

"In a moment, you are yourself and your enemy. Living their lives in a seconds' time," Amanda went on, her voice distant. "Even as wonderful as it feels, you are punished a bit- feeling their hate of you."

"But once you assimilate it's not so bad," Ramirez shrugged.

"Unless the quickening takes you," Methos shuddered.

"The dark? Legend," the other man scoffed.

"I wish."

"It happened then?"

"I'll show you the chronicle," Joe offered, not wanting to dwell on that, Mac's face, clouded with hate, taunting him, still gave him nightmares.

"I still want to know what you are, mortal," Ramirez said.

"A Watcher. They observe and record and hardly ever interfere," Methos said. "I can get you a job there."

"Isn't that - unethical?"

"Very," Methos agreed, "But no one's ever found me thanks to it."

"You aren't that young, " Gin guessed.

"Just tell her," Ramirez sighed.

"I'm five thousand years old," Methos said, glaring at the other immortal. "Happy?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope. And yeah, I did meet Job, sometime after all that other. He wasn't speaking to his other friends. And that's all I will say on my history now or ever. "

With that, Methos left.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean that," Amanda said nervously. "You know, M- I can't call you Mac, only Mac is Mac and you aren't Mac. Sorry. This partnership has been great, but I've got a new identity to build. Figures- I finally get a clean ID, and it's gone in less than a month. Ta, darlings. Joe, it's been marvelous seeing you again. If my Mac shows up, tell him I'm available."

Joe looked from one door to the other. "Well, bar won't run itself. Decide what you're doing and let me know."

He ambled to the front.

"So, what now, Ramirez is it?" Gin asked. "Want to 'take my head'?"

"No. Are you planning on taking mine?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I'm not sure what portion of a billion we still have, but Amanda did get it navigated successfully into nice neat Swiss accounts before we were caught. I think we can afford to get you a sword in case we run into unpleasant types."

Joe hadn't gone too far. He stuck his head back in. "Nash's Antiques on Fifth has a great selection."

Ramirez nodded gravely. "Thank you, my good man. We will visit tomorrow. I believe I saw a listing for Hamlet in the paper, and I did promise to take Gin to a play."

"I need clothes that aren't knife wounded first. And I wanted to see Wicked."

"I planned on that as well. Later."