Disclaimer: I do not have anything to do with the Highlander films/movies or the characters. I don't own shit. I'm a "nobody". I have never worked at, stayed in, or associated with the hotel mentioned in this chapter of my fan fiction. I don't know the staff at the hotel or in this bar. I certainly don't know if the waitress there is a slut, looking for an older 'sugar daddy'. I do not endorse the hotel either. I just thought it had a cool reference to the word church and the association to "holy ground" for an immortal. I hope that I've done it justice.
Again, sorry if it takes a century for me to update…
The night's sky turned the color of pitch, as dark clouds blanketed any visible stars. Rain fell in a violent flow. It seemed to Joe Dawson that the weather matched the terrible event that occurred half an hour earlier. He had to leave the shelter of a taxi to reach his destination. The police had blocked off traffic and they were taking statements from witnesses. The injured and dead were removed by ambulance and hurried to the closest hospital.
Joe briskly shuffled along the last block to MacLeod's residence. His prosthetic leg had prevented him from arriving sooner. He only hoped that he could reach MacLeod before the police did. It's always hard to hear things like this from a stranger. A friend can be more sympathetic and actually mean it.
The residential building sold whole floors to those who liked to have a 3000 square feet space to live. It was the size of a nice home in the down town area of the city. Joe pushed the button for the sixth floor and tried to think of how he was going to break the news.
Joe stepped out of the over sized elevator and immediately smelled the tomato based sauce that permeated the hallway. Glancing at his watch, Joe saw that it was dinnertime. His legs felt rubbery and he compulsively ran his left hand through his salt and pepper colored hair. He reached forward with a finger and pressed the doorbell. Soft jazz was audible through the massive Oak door. The sound of footsteps stopped on the other side of the door.
Duncan MacLeod stood at the door, wiping his hands on a dish towel. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, Joe. What're you doing here?" Duncan stepped back from the door to allow Joe to enter.
The atmosphere was warm and the music playing on a stereo, in the corner, was soothing. Joe slowly looked around the large open room and found the easy mixture of masculine and feminine touches. It was a cozy looking home and very contemporary. He fixed his eyes on Duncan. Duncan's right brow dipped slightly and moved toward the kitchen.
"Would you like a drink? You look like you can use one." Duncan walked around the island in the center of the white colored kitchen. He lifted the lid off a stainless steel stockpot and blistering steam billowed up to the ceiling. "Kate's due any minute, but you're welcome to stay for dinner." Duncan stirred something in the pot and nodded his head in satisfaction. Placing the lid on the counter top, Duncan prepared to lift and drain the pot. He saw Joe's face and stopped in midair.
"What's wrong, Joe?"
Joe cleared his throat and began, "MacLeod, I don't know how to make this easy. Please understand how sorry I am. Kate isn't coming home." Joe's eyes began to tear and his voice gave out. He placed his hands on his face to stifle a sob.
"What happened?" Duncan asked, his voice going two octaves lower. He took a deep breath and held it. He knew he needed to prepare himself for something terrible. "Not Kate, not now. She just came back to me." Fear turned his blood icy and his hands clenched.
Joe knew by the look on Duncan's face, what he was thinking. "She didn't die by the hands of an immortal. There was a four car pile-up and the windshield of a motorcycle was flying debris." He griped the handle of his cane tightly and leaned for support. "Duncan, anything I can do or anything you need, I'm here."
Duncan left the kitchen and walked to an off-white leather sofa. He heavily sat in the center and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders gently shook with deep sobs that he didn't hold back.
Joe shuffled over to the small liquor bar and poured double shots of vodka for both of them.
********************
Joe's taxi turned off White Street and headed to the Tribeca Grand Hotel on 6th Avenue. He was headed to the hotel bar called Church Lounge. Once on the curb, he paid the driver and went into the hotel. He walked through the lobby and down a curved stone ramp that lead into a spacious lounge. It flowed like a babbling brook, to either side of a rectangular shaped bar. The chambers of the lounge were off to the left. Joe could see a violet skylight, and the eight floors of the hotel, to his right.
Joe stepped into the lounge and glanced around. The lunchtime rush was well over and the activity inside was at a minimum. He spied the tall, lean man sitting in a darkened corner. Joe could see from the fifty yards distance that the young looking man was in a peculiar mood. Joe moved awkwardly toward the table and motioned to a passing waitress. "Two light beers, please, on tap" He said with a warm smile.
Joe neared the table and reached out to shake hands with his friend.
"Adam, it's good to see you again."
Adam smiled. He still found it amusing that his close friends remembered to call him Adam and not by his birth name, Methos. He only had two close friends and they knew the risks of exposing his true identity. He sat up straighter with his back against the wall while his legs were extended lengthwise with the bench seat.
"How's MacLeod?" Methos asked with genuine concern.
"Trying to deal with this. He told me that he doesn't have anyone to hate for taking her life." Joe cleared his throat, "He's blaming himself a little. Says he asked her to buy some wine on the way home. He figures she'd have made it safely if she hadn't stopped. I think it's close to how he felt when Richie died."
Methos lowered his eyes and studied his hands. "I don't know that I can be of much help to him. He knows how to deal with loss, Joe."
Joe leaned closer to the table and reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper and looked into Methos' dark eyes saying, "This is a little different, isn't it?"
Methos sighed and tilted his head to the side, "Not really. Maybe it'll be easier. There isn't anyone he can hate or go after for revenge."
Joe sat back as a waitress brought two beers and placed each in front of the two men. She smiled at Joe and gave a small wink as she headed back to the bar.
Joe stared at the heady foam floating at the rim of his mug.
Methos took a large gulp of his beer and made a face of distaste. "I've never been able to get used to American beer. It almost tastes like piss."
Joe quirked one side of his mouth, "Tasted piss, have you?" he asked sarcastically.
"Joe, you would be appalled at some of the things I've had to eat and drink over the years," Methos smiled and then looked Joe in the eyes. "Joe, don't go there. I'm not a mentor, not any more, and not ever."
Joe leaned closer once again, "MacLeod can't teach the woman right now; he's not himself." Joe hid his eyes from Methos, afraid that something would be obvious in them.
Methos sat up straighter on his side of the booth. "I may hide my ago well, but I wasn't born thirty years ago. You're hiding something, what is it?"
Joe sighed and looked into his beer, "She's only been immortal for 27 hours. She was there when Kate was killed, she received the quickening." Joe slowly looked up to see Methos' reaction.
Disbelief immediately flushed the immortal and he stared at Dawson. "My God! You expect me to come into this and…ha…ha…no, no, and no. Duncan would kill me for sure. You've got to tell him, Joe. If you don't, I will."
Joe looked stricken and desperate. "MacLeod can't do this right now. It could be devastating to the woman as well. She doesn't know what the hell happened to her. She wouldn't be able to handle Kate's quickening, in Mac's presence. Do you know how he'd handle it? Maybe if you just took her somewhere for a month to get her used to this…"
Methos scowled at Joe and demanded, "And then what? Just show up one day and say, 'Hi, how ya doin'? and 'oh, yeah, this is the woman who got Kate's quickening'. Don't cheat him out of a chance to say goodbye to his wife, Joe. Don't put me in the middle. I like MacLeod. I want to stay on his good side."
Joe slid the piece of paper toward Methos and nodded his head in agreement, "Maybe you're right, but please, go see her first."
Joe watched as Methos stood to leave, "Oh, I reassigned the 'Watcher' that was following her. I'll wait until your training is over before I assign someone else."
Methos nodded and walked toward the exit. He hailed a taxi and called out the address, on the slip of paper, to the driver.