Timothy Wyatt clinched his hands around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white as he starred at the dark street in front of him. Next to him sat the Immortal, Adam Pierson, and starred out of the window without saying one single word.

Damn, damn, damn, Wyatt thought angrily at himself for getting into this situation. I'm a stupid fool... never interfere, and what do I do?... damn... What have I thought? Ok, it was a very unfair fight, four against one; and seeing the bloodied form of the young Immortal helpless lying in front of my feet – I really had to help him... damn, the tribunal will have my head for this...

A moan coming from the Immortal interrupted his thoughts. Eying the other man, Wyatt saw that the Immortal's face had gone very pale and that his lips were shaking.

"It's so cold in here," the Immortal then whispered, "can you please turn on the heating?"

Although Wyatt considered it hot enough in the car, he did what he was asked for. A few moments later, Pierson groaned once again. The Immortal had closed his eyes; his face was covered in sweat and Wyatt also noticed that the other was breathing very fast now.

Frowning, Wyatt considered if this kind of reaction was normal. He didn't remember ever to have heard of such a strange behaviour after a quickening. Hadn't he known the man to be an Immortal, he had considered him to be ill. But that couldn't be, or could it?

He tried to remember what had happened: the quickening had been very powerful; maybe the Immortal was too young to deal with it? Yes, that must it be... And hadn't been something else a little bit strange? The quickening had not hit the Immortal immediately, Wyatt remembered now, no, it had taken some seconds before it had hit Pierson. Considering now what he had seen, it also seemed to him as if the Immortal had fought the quickening... And had it really been only one quickening? Or had it been two... no, that couldn't be... two quickening?... DAMN, he suddenly was very sure, it had been indeed two quickening... TWO! No wonder that the Immortal was acting a little strange.

He once again glanced at the Immortal next to him who was trembling now as if feeling cold, although it was now very hot – almost unpleasant hot - in the car. "Are you alright?" Wyatt finally asked. Because the Immortal didn't react first, Wyatt had to repeat his question a second time before the man finally opened his now feverish shining eyes and stared at him.

"I'm so cold," the Immortal then whispered with a husky voice.

"I have a blanket in my car; I can stop if you like." Wyatt offered.

The Immortal blinked in confusion before he focused on the watcher again. "Yes please," he then smiled weakly.

A few minutes later, Wyatt opened the door of his car and offered the blanket to Pierson. The Immortal looked for some seconds as he wouldn't know where he was and what was going on; then a slight flicker of recognisation appeared on his face and he smiled again at Wyatt.

"Thank you,"he whispered almost inaudible as he took the blanket.

Examining the other a little bit closer, Wyatt came to the conclusion that something was definitely very wrong with this Immortal: his face was almost totally white now and the widened pupils of his eyes didn't react the slightest bit to the light shining directly into them. But more than that concerned Wyatt the fact that the Immortal looked very confused, his eyes once again unfocused and his mind apparently drifting away.

He shook his head; he would bring the Immortal home and then hurry to his own flat. If he was lucky, he could call his supervisor and tell him about the whole disaster before the watcher of the other Immortals reported him. Sighing deeply, he drove to Pierson's flat.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived. The watcher looked at the Immortal who seemed to be asleep, curled in the blanket, his face against the window. "We are at your flat now," he said.

Waiting for a reaction but getting none, he then shouted a little louder, "Hey, wake up!" No reaction. The watcher then began to shake the other by his shoulder - but still no reaction. As he then touched the Immortal's pale skin, he almost let out a surprised cry: it felt totally hot.

The slight feeling of concern he had felt grew, something was definitely very, very wrong. Feeling the man's pulse, he noticed that it was too low and unsteady. As he opened one of the Immortal's eyes, he only saw the white there. The Immortal was definitely not sleeping, he almost looked as in deep coma instead.

Damn, Wyatt thought in raising panic, what to hell shall I do with you now?... Why have I interfered, damn, damn... now I have the mess.

Wyatt forced himself to calm down as he looked again at the young Immortal, trying to come up with something as his cell phone suddenly rang. "Wyatt,"he answered, and almost dropped it as he recognized the voice of his supervisor, James Cook, at the other end.

"It's me, Cook... where to hell are you? I got a call from Dick Brahms, a watcher who is assigned to de Court and his little gang. He claimed that you've consorted with your Immortal... You cannot imagine what' s up here now. I suggest that you better come to HQ immediately and tell that he's wrong... I mean, he is wrong, isn't he?"

Wyatt heard his heart beating very fast as he clinched the phone; his worst nightmare had come true.

"Wyatt, tell me that he is wrong!"he heard the other demand.

"I...," Wyatt subbed, "I... he needed my help; I couldn't let him lay there."

"What? You're surely not telling me that you helped an Immortal!" came the shocked reply.

"He... something is wrong with him. I mean, he is in coma now and..."

"What?" Cook interrupted him aghast, "he is still with you?!!"

"I... yes."

"I don't believe it... This is totally insane, Wyatt. Have you forgotten your oath? The tribunal will kill you for this... What the hell have you thought?"

"I haven't thought... I saw his bloodied face and I decided that I couldn't let him there. I mean, he was totally helpless... and now he doesn't react at all; he behaves as he would be ill... What shall I do now?" he then whispered helplessly.

His supervisor sighed deeply, then he finally ordered," come to HQ. Bring the Immortal with you; we deal with him later. If he is really in coma, we cannot risk him being brought to a hospital and examined. It's better if he stays with us... I mean, he was a watcher once, it shouldn't be a problem when he wakes up, he already knows us. And to you... you will be arrested and this whole mess will be examined. You are still young, maybe we can persuade the tribunal to only remove you from your assignment and give you a job in research – if you are lucky, very lucky that means."

After Cook had hung up, Wyatt leaned against his car and closed his eyes. His whole body trembled as he imagined what was waiting for him. What a mess, he thought in fear. His only hope was that the tribunal hadn't killed Dawson for consorting with his assignment, so maybe he also would get away with his head intact. "Damn," he whispered as he entered his car to drive to HQ.