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)
