Chapter 35

Paris, later that evening

Joe Dawson left the club early. He was tired… and he was exasperated. Amy had managed to get Burt to take the children to England and to her mother's… promising to fill him in on everything when he returned. Then she'd calmly returned to work… as if nothing had happened. However, she'd not had any luck at work today learning anything new.

"It might take a few days… I can't push too hard."

Joe had nodded. But he was worried. One… that something had happened to Methos… he felt certain. Surely his ancient friend would have called him on that cell phone if he could have. That he hadn't… only raised Joe's fears. Two… he and Amy would have to talk to Burt once they knew something for certain. And three… three… Joe needed to find time to go to the church… but he had to make it look very casual.

He put the key into the lock on his front door and heard a footstep shift on gravel in the shadows. Turning slightly he was aware of someone just out of sight.

"Shh… just leave the door unlocked, Joseph. Someone is still watching you." Eleanor's soft voice whispered from the darkness.

"Damn girl, we gotta stop meeting like this." Joe grinned… then opened his door and entered… making certain he turned on the usual lights and went through his usual routine… except he did not re-lock the door… nor throw the bolt.

Thirty minutes later, Eleanor, dressed in dark clothes slipped through the front door and locked it behind her. She tossed him a smile. "Just thought I'd check on you. Your watcher just left for the evening."

"Yeah… he knows I'm usually down for the count on nights I come home early." He gestured about the room. "Have a seat?"

Eleanor stood at the door and looked around… Joe thought she looked nervous enough to bolt any moment.

"I drew the drapes, there are no bugs… No one will know you're here."

Eleanor nodded and smiled. Finally she crossed to the sofa and curled up. "Can we dim some lights?"

"You betcha!"

Joe turned a few off and settled down beside her. "What now?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd learned anything?"

Joe shook his head sadly. "And you?"

Eleanor likewise shook her head. "I know he's alive, Joseph… but that's all I know. I can't find him… I can't even tell how far away he is or what direction."

"Well even knowing what you do know… that's remarkable… how?"

"I've always known… to some extent. He was always a reality in my mind. Darius was the same way. You recall my telling you about being in Hong Kong and being able to close my eyes and just know where he was… where Paris was."

Joe nodded. It was one of the stories she'd told him in the hosital eight years ago. He'd written it down in the journal he'd created about her in the years that followed.

"It didn't make sense then… and now… I don't know how to explain it. Methos and I have shared visions… and through those… we share a common consciousness… if we both want."

"Maybe he's just blocking you out somehow."

"No… he was before… then he took a quickening… and opened wide to let me in and then… everything was just strange… as if he were still there… but not thinking… as if he were caught in a moment of memory… that was frozen somehow." She shook her head… rubbing her arms and shivering slightly. "Something is wrong."

"We'll get to the bottom of this Ellie… I promise you. I'm gonna do everything I can to get him back for you… find him… whatever." Joe looked around. "Where's Derrick tonight?"

"Nearby… he's keeping an eye out to be certain no one else takes up watching your house while I'm here. Since you don't know anything yet… I should be going." She smiled. "When's your next early night?"

"Not for another week. But you set a night and I'll be here."

Ellie shook her head. "No… no deviation from routine… not yet." She reached out to clasp his arm. "I'll be in touch." Leaning over she kissed his cheek and then rose to unlock the door. Just before she opened it she paused and then looked back… "Thank you." Then she was gone.

Joe bolted the door after her, turned off the lights, and headed to bed. Tomorrow… he just might pay a call on some old Watcher friends… purely social, of course. But maybe it was time to stop pussyfooting around so much. He needed answers… and he wasn't going to find them unless he did something.

His eyes fell on the picture of his grandchildren. They were safe. They were in England. They were out of the line of fire. He had to believe that. No matter what was going on with Rawlins and his group… surely small children would be safe. He set the framed photograph down, turned out the last light… and went to bed.

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Eleanor slipped around the corner from Joseph's house and found Derrick right where she'd left him. The boy gave her a quizzical look, as if wondering "What next?"

Eleanor slipped an arm through his. "Back to the grove," she whispered.

"Dawson didn't know anything?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Not yet… but at least we have another way to meet with him if necessary."

Swiftly the two crossed traffic and headed into the old part of the city. Eleanor let Derrick lead the way while she concentrated on feeling for immortals about them. They were lucky… she felt no one. Once they were back in the grove… Derrick unrolled the sleeping bag they'd bought earlier and spread it on the floor of the main room. "I get the floor tonight," he announced with a smirk, and settled in without another word.

Eleanor chuckled as she turned out the overhead light and shut the door to "her" room. She crossed to the window and looked down on the churchyard across the street. All was dark over there. There were no lights… no one lived in Darius' old cell any longer. Even the priest who served the church lived elsewhere… she doubted he used the room for anything besides storage. Just beyond she could see the skyline and make out lights on Notre Dame. Further on she could see the Eiffel Tower… lit up and marking the heart of Paris. If she closed her eyes… she could visualize the myriad streets… as they were… and as they had been. If she'd been using the sewers… she could count the number of chambers… and the number of turns… on how to get where she needed to be. But to re-open the gate to the sewers was dangerous… and yet… If they were to remain here… she would need those passages… to facilitate their travel about the city.

Finally she turned away from the window and crawled onto the bed. She was tired… and her head still pounded… more from the lack of Methos' presence she now felt… than from her attempts to reach him. She'd barely tried all day… choosing instead to just remain open to his thoughts. If he became aware of anything… if he sent a thought her way… she'd know.

On the narrow bed, she curled around the pillow in her arms and ached for him. "Come back to me!" she thought. "Come back to me!" Eventually… she slept… and in dreams she seemed to ride behind him once more… holding tightly to him beneath his cloak as his horse pounded the earth and the sands shifted at their passing. The desert sun beat down brightly on a near colorless world of sand and rock and blood. He drew his sword and together they plunged into the fray… an ancient battle cry on their lips.

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Watcher Compound

Henry Rawlins stepped out of the elevator into the underground complex. His feet clinked solidly on the iron grating of the overhead catwalk surrounding the lower chamber. He paused at one point and stared down with satisfaction.

"The answers we seek are almost all here," he whispered in the chill semi-darkness. Below… white garbed personnel moved among the partitions… taking readings… checking vitals… re-adjusting the level of medication. Rawlins smiled… but it was more like that of a wolf who knows the prey is his.

"Mr. Rawlins," came the whispered, almost apologetic voice behind him.

Rawlins turned to regard the architect of this project… Dr. Julius Wilderman. The Watcher slowly arched one eyebrow as he regarded the short stoop-shouldered Wilderman. An elderly man, the portly scientist had white wisps of hair like an aureole surrounding his balding head; wire-rimmed spectacles covered his pale blue eyes. In his hands he clutched a PPC. Rawlins had heard Dr. Rawlins speak at a medical convention almost ten years ago regarding bio-feedback, computers, and memory. Inspired… by Wilderman's claims, Rawlins had suddenly seen the future… and he had acted upon it swiftly.

"Yes doctor," the tall, blonde Watcher said sibilantly… being certain to add a pleasing smile as well… a smile however, that held no warmth.

"We are nearly ready for the first set of experiments." He paused, pulling out a large handkerchief with which he wiped his perspiring forehead. Even in the cold of this place… Wilderman was perspiring heavily… not a good sign. "We have nearly gathered all the requisite data… but…"

Rawlins waited. He did not wish to seem overeager.

"There's a slight… discrepancy in one of the last ones you brought in… number 47," Wilderman finally said.

Rawlins heart beat heavily. He'd made certain no one here would know who was who among the specimens… but he did. "Number 47?" he managed to get out evenly, with no trace of the excitement he felt. "What about him?"

"It's easier if I show you, sir." Wilderman motioned for his boss to follow him down the stairs and into one of the curtained partition areas.

Rawlins' eyes traveled over the inert form of the male known simply as number 47. This had been an especially welcome catch. The attendant with the specimen was checking his readings and entering data on her PPC. Wilderman held his up.

"With most of the specimens… we have been carefully tracking their brain-wave functions under the drugs. When they dream… we get a particular signature… as so. With a little more fine-tuning… we should be able to feed the data into the system and the program will decode it… allowing us to… in effect… see their dreams. It's only the first step, however…"

"Yes.. yes!" Rawlins snapped. "You have explained this part!"

"Yes… well… with number 47… there is something… interesting." He held the PPC out once more for Rawlins to see the readout. "This is number 6… a male of similar build and obvious physical age. And here is number 23… the same. But this is number 47." Wilderman waited… hoping Rawlins would see what he saw.

But the man didn't.

Wilderman pointed at the line. "This is the thought pattern as he dreams."

Rawlins stared blankly.

"It is a double line…"

Rawlins stared at it.

"Whenever he dreams… there is another mind there. He is mentally linked to someone. Someone… we don't have."

"How do you know it's not one of the others?"

"Because the thought pattern of each specimen is distinctive. None of the others… matches his. Ergo: there must be another. Without this other one… I doubt number 47 will be of use to us."

Rawlins regarded the specimen coldly. "It would have to be him!" Crossing his arms before him, Rawlins let one hand rub across his face as he considered his options. Finally… he made his decision. "Continue to observe this one. Leave him out of the initial experiments. I may know who the other is… and if so… I'll collect it. I only just missed obtaining it recently, so it's likely only a matter of time." Nodding curtly to Wilderman, Rawlins pivoted and marched out of the area.

He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number for Avril Mischkov. "Finding MacLeod is now our number one priority. Put whomever you need on it. Pull in extra people… but be careful." Snapping the phone shut, Rawlins climbed back to the catwalk. As he gazed out over the area once more he felt a great sense of satisfaction. "Soon…" he hissed. "Soon all you know, all the power you have, will be mine."