PART SEVEN


"Hey, Chlo," Clark said as he breezed into the Torch office. He dropped his backpack on the nearest chair. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much," the reporter said as her fingers danced over the computer keys. "Just working on the background check I've been doing on Duncan."

Clark, who was about to take off his jacket, froze. It took a full minute for what she said to really sink in.

"You're what?" he finally asked, voice thick with disbelief. Jacket forgotten, he hurried to her desk.

"I know any info I find will only be scratching the surface," Chloe continued. "The guy is four hundred years old, after all. Still, I figure what's there will give me some idea…"

"Wait!" Clark interrupted. Just to be sure he heard her right, he asked, "You're doing a background check on Mac?"

Chloe frowned at him. "Well, yeah," she said, as if doing background checks was the most natural, reasonable thing in the world. "Why are you acting so surprised? You knew about this."

"Uh, no, I didn't," Clark said. "I think I would've remembered if you mentioned digging into Mac's past in your free time."

"Oh." After a thoughtful pause, she shrugged. "Well, now you know." She started to type even as she talked. "I mean, I like Mac and all. I even think we can trust him. But, after Merrick, I figured it wouldn't hurt to know a little more about my mentor than what he decides to tell me."

As Clark sat on the edge of her desk, he tried to decide how he felt about this. His own unique situation made him a little touchy about investigating people. Especially when, A, they hadn't done anything wrong and, B, he liked them.

Not that he'd intended to like Mac. After Merrick, Clark was determined to be suspicious of everything Mac did or said. If he stayed suspicious, he'd be on his guard if the elder Immortal tried anything.

But there was something about Duncan MacCleod that made you want to trust him. In a way, he reminded Clark of his dad. Look in his eyes, and you just knew the guy had strict ideas about right and wrong, and doing the right thing, no matter how hard it was.

Still, once he thought about it, he realized a background check wasn't a bad idea.

"What did you find out?" he asked, feeling only a twinge of guilt.

Always happy to share information, Chloe grinned. "Well, like you, he seems to spend his free time doing the 'hero' thing. Stopping assassination attempts. Rescuing kidnap victims. Helping to put murderers behind bars."

"Whoa." Clark's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "That's some resume."

"And that's just the stuff we know about. I mean, it's not like every detail of his life for the past 400 years would be public record. Although," and her eyes sparkled with the light of curiosity, "I have found the name 'Duncan MacCleod' in news reports going back a hundred years or so. For example, in the 1920s, a Duncan MacCleod saved a young boy from a burning building. Now, most people would assume the similar name is just a coincidence, right? But, considering…"

"Yeah." Clark agreed. And his respect for the guy went up several notches.

As she punched a few computer keys, Chloe started to snicker. "And look at this."

Clark left his perch on the desk and went to stand behind Chloe's chair. When he saw what was on the computer screen, his eyes flew wide open. It was the cover of one of those historical romances his mom liked. On it was a couple dressed—barely—in period costume, clutched in a passionate embrace. And the hero bore an uncanny resemblance to Mac.

"It's a romance novel based on the 'legend'"—Chloe made air quotes—"of Duncan MacLeod, a mythical hero who appeared in various tales of bravery in several countries over the centuries. Of course, the writer insists MacLeod can't be real, because he'd have to have been hundreds of years old to do all the things they say he did." Chloe smirked at the irony. "She says MacCleod's a folk hero, like Paul Bunyan, or John Henry. A tale told around the fire to entertain the kids, or inspire the troops before battle."

By now, Clark's mouth was hanging open, and his mind was officially blown. The fact that Mac was four hundred years-old was pretty big in and of itself. Now, they find out the guy was some kind of legend?

Clark wondered what it would be like to have people tell stories about you. To have them look up to you as some kind of mythical hero. Really, he couldn't imagine how that would feel, and doubted he'd ever find out.

The sound of the printer in action brought Clark out of his reverie. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," Chloe said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I'll either save the picture in case I ever need blackmail material, or I'll show it to Duncan right away just to see the look on his face. Or I might hang it up on my wall. For research purposes, of course." When she saw Clark's frown, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! It's not every day you meet someone who's likeness has appeared, hardly dressed, on the cover of a romance novel."

Clark shook his head in disapproval, even as he made plans to be there when Chloe presented the picture to the elder Immortal. It would be one of those priceless moments a person just didn't want to miss.

As Chloe stood up, her hand hit her pencil holder. As it tumbled to the floor, pencils and pens skittered across the linoleum.

"Damn!" she hissed as she started to bend down.

"It's okay." Clark took a quick step forward. "I'll…"

"Clark!" Chloe exclaimed. As she stuck out her arm to block him, the back of her hand slammed into his chest.

Startled, Clark stopped. "What's the matter?"

"Well, first of all, ow!" Grimacing, Chloe shook the hand she'd smacked him with. "What are you made of, steel?"

Clark shrugged, a smug smile curling his lips. Hey, she was the one who hit him. And, even though it hadn't hurt, he was a little miffed.

"Secondly," Chloe waved at the pencils on the floor, "you have to stop doing that."

"What? Picking up pencils?"

Chloe glared at him. "No. Acting like I'll break in half if I trip, or bend over, or—god forbid—get startled by a loud noise. I mean, I wasn't all that fragile before I became Immortal, and I'm definitely not now."

Clark sighed. He supposed he had been going a little overboard lately. He didn't mean to. Not really. And it wasn't that he thought Chloe couldn't take care of herself. But he was still having a hard time dealing with Chloe being an Immortal. Or, rather, with her having to fight other Immortals to the death. Even though he'd been helping her train, he'd kind of been in denial about it until now. But Duncan's arrival made it all too real. And stirred up some of the guilt he'd managed to push to the back of his mind.

For a moment, he considered telling Chloe what was really bothering him. But it would bring up some stuff she didn't seem any more eager to dwell on than he was.

"Sorry," he said as he tried to smile. "From now on, I'll let you pick up your own pencils."

"Or, here's a thought," Chloe began. "Let's do it together."

Clark grinned. "Okay."


(TO BE CONTINUED)