Chapter 88

Paris, Le Blues Bar

"I won't hear of it," Grace stammered.

"Grace… it has to be me." John pointed towards Joe, whom they'd stretched out on the sofa in his office. The Watcher was still breathing raggedly, and his flushed color was a sure sign that he was in respiratory distress.

"You are needed here and this is something I can do."

Tears sprang to Grace's eyes as she shook her head. "It's not fair."

John smiled and reached to pull her into his arms. He kissed her eyelids gently. "Life is not fair. It's the only way. It has to be me."

Grace pulled away with a sob.

Amy, sitting by Joe and stroking his hair… feeling the hot flush of his brow nodded sadly. "Burt and Dad had a plan to find the missing immortals. But Dad's unconscious and Burt's gone. He told me to put things in motion… I can contact his people and I can contact Joe's friends. But I don't know how to contact Dad's other immortal friends. You two are all I know."

Grace stared at the two mortals sadly. Dawson needed to be in hospital and Amy was clearly torn between wanting to go with her husband to rescue their children… and being here for her father. And… she was suddenly in charge.

"All right." Grace agreed. "I'll do it… but you hear me right now John Kirin… you will come back safely."

"I have no intention of dying, Grace. But I can't let anyone else die… especially mortals." He glanced at the closet where they'd tied and gagged the Watcher.

Grace sat heavily in a chair and nodded. "I need a knife."

John pulled one out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I have this… will it work?" He handed it to Grace, who nodded.

"Bandages?"

Amy pulled a First Aid kit from a drawer of Joe's desk and tossed it on the surface. Grace opened it and looked through it. She nodded and arranged disinfectant, bandages, and a pair of tweezers. She lit a match and ran both the tweezers and the knife through the flame and faced Amy grimly. "You still need to see about a tetanus shot."

Amy laughed and nodded. Grace poured disinfectant on the knife as Amy pulled up her skirt and pointed out the location of the transponder. Grace palpitated the area and nodded. "It's not too deep… but this is going to hurt." Amy took a deep breath and nodded.

"Be ready," Grace said to John who sat beside her and lay one arm on the desk… palm up. Grace sliced into Amy's leg and handed John the knife. She staunched the flow of blood… picked up the tweezers … poured on the disinfectant and probed the wound for the transponder.

John jabbed the knife into his arm and made a slit… turning the knife to hold the cut open and unhealed. He gritted his teeth at the pain. Grace pulled the transponder from Amy's leg and inserted it into John's arm. She tossed the tweezers down and grabbed gauze pads to press on Amy's wound. John pulled the knife free of his cut and held his hand over it… and then wiped away the blood. There was, of course, no sign that he'd ever cut his arm.

"Wish I healed like that," Amy said weakly as Grace worked on bandaging her leg.

"No you don't," John Kirin replied. "You wouldn't want to do what we have to do in order to survive."

Amy stared at him and nodded. Tears were in her eyes. Gratefully she swallowed two aspirin and some water.

John handed Grace the knife. "I doubt I will need that," he said with a smile. Rising, he pulled Grace after him as they left the mortals in the office and entered the bar.

Amy watched them go and placed a cool cloth on Joe's brow. "I hope I'm doing the right thing, Dad… I hope I'm doing what you'd do."

Joe lay quietly and there was no sign he'd heard her. His breath seemed to rattle in his chest.

A strangled sob escaped Amy's throat as she covered her eyes. Her shoulders shook. She could lose them all today. If Mischkov got to Liverpool… she could lose her children and her mother. If Burt caught up with the man… he could die. And Joe's life was slipping away as she watched. She'd never felt so helpless. And here she was… having to head up an operation to save the lives of people she didn't even know… not really… not even Methos. She likely knew more about him than any Watcher except Joe… but she didn't really know him. He'd once saved her life… but she didn't know him.

In the bar Grace and John said a tearful goodbye. He cupped her chin with a smile. "I'll be back… just make certain you come for me."

Grace nodded.

He kissed her and she clung to him. Then she let him go and he stepped back. Glancing out the window into the deserted street he sighed. He squeezed her hand. Dropping it he turned and left… closing the bar door softly behind him. Grace reached and turned the lock to bolt the door and then backed against it as tears fell.

Of all the immortal men she'd ever known in her long life… John had never asked anything of her… never demanded more from her than she was willing to give. And now… he'd pleaded for her to let him go. Grace had sincere doubts she'd ever see him again… or ever find anyone else, if she survived, to take his place.

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As he strolled along the deserted streets… John Kage Kirin as he sometimes thought of himself… letting his old identity be a part of the new one so that he'd remember always what he'd done… and how much he still had to atone for… drank in the calm of the early Paris day. Residents and workers were just now beginning to exit onto the streets on their way to work… or play… or shopping… or any of a thousand activities. They were oblivious to the war going on in their midst. They saw only their petty quarrels with co-workers, friends, family, and the government. They did not see the life and death struggle for survival which played out in the shadows for those few who'd been created different… the immortals.

As if their struggle for survival was not enough… as if their battles with one another for supremacy and the prize were not enough… now mortals would destroy them. John had no idea why this had happened… he only knew that he was in a position to end it.

Slowly he made his way toward the Arc de Triomphe on the far side of the Seine. He didn't know if he'd get that far. Surely some passing vehicle of Watchers would see him. They were all surely looking for them. He would not resist. He would go with them quietly… and trust in Amy Meyers and her people to find him. He had no choice. People were dying… not because of anything he had done… but more would die if he failed to do this.

If he did nothing… if he hid… instead of helping… he would be as guilty as they were. Someone had to step forward and make the sacrifice. That he was facing the loss of his life as he knew it… that he might never see Grace again made him realize how blessed he had been that she had been a part of his life these past few years.

He smiled, recalling the day they'd met at that medical mission in Africa. He'd heard that Marielle… that small immortal he'd briefly known in Cambodia… was there and he'd gone to see her. Grace was also there… and in Grace… he'd become even more fully John Kirin than he'd thought possible. He understood her desire to help mortals… and knew that between the two of them… they could make a difference. They could save mortal lives… physically, emotionally, and even financially… one day at a time… one mortal at a time.

In each other they'd also found love… and that had been the greatest gift… an unlooked for gift for a man who'd never believed love was possible for such as he. He'd been the worst type of immortal possible for millennia. He'd made his living… supported his lifestyle… on the pain and suffering of mortals. He had so much to make up for. He wondered if even a thousand years would begin to wash clean the blood on his hands. And now… if he died… he'd only barely begun to atone… how could thirty-oddyears begin to make up for what he'd done. It couldn't.

As he crossed the pont, John gazed ahead of him at the Place de la Concorde where once the guillotine had stood. He paused for a moment there and sighed as he rounded the obelisk. So much death… so much hatred. How could any man fail to be moved?

Then he turned left to gaze up the Avenue de Champs Elyséss. He put his hands behind him and continued his stroll. He was some two hundred feet from reaching the Arc when a dark green van pulled along side of him and two armed men got out.

John Kage Kirin turned to face them with a smile. "How may I help you gentlemen?"