Starlight and Moonlight:
Duncan rose slightly as Joe wheeled in to the cafe. He grinned as the Watcher managed to efficiently maneuver between the tables and smirk at others' unease at his entrance.
"God, I love it when I can make a helluva entrance!" Joe laughed as the maître d' removed a chair with a bow to make room for Joe's mechanized one.
Over lunch, Joe told the Highlander about Duroché. "Same as the others Mac. 'Cept she's gettin daring. This was in broad daylight in a dark alley near his home. His Watcher was still tryin' to locate him after he left with you. Where'd you two go… anyway?"
Duncan shook his head with a shrug. "Just to the nearest church. I asked about whom he knew in Paris… female immortals in particular… that might be hunting. Then we parted."
"Any leads? Joe asked as he sipped his water.
Duncan shook his head. The one lead he had… he wasn't about to share. He feared what the Watchers would do, if it were indeed Alisaunne hunting immortals… and wounding Watchers in the process. That she had no love for them… he knew only too well. Part of her blamed all of them for Ian's death… not just the ones who'd overstepped the boundaries of what they were.
He'd protect Joe. He'd protect the Watchers and their secrets. But he had to protect Alisaunne as well. She might be the key to the immortals' future. And until that day came, she needed to be protected. Methos and Cassandra would deal with her from here on out. Cassandra would be with her as no one else could be for now. As for Duroché… Duncan had to admit that it was strange. Had she followed him… and then Duroché? He hadn't warned the man… only pumped him for information. The specter of guilt for having caused the death of another immortal hung over him.
"Thing is…" Joe was saying, "She musta branched out for some reason. There's no reason we can think of why she went after Duroché… he was harmless. Course now… his paintings will likely sell." Joe shook his head. Leave it to him to find something bizarrely upbeat about all of this.
"How's your Watcher… the one who was injured?" Duncan finally asked as if to relieve the guilt attempting to choke him.
"Recovering. Say… weren't you off to Waterloo or something?"
Duncan nodded. "Soon as we're done. I want to take another look around the place before heading back to Florence."
"Home to Amanda," Joe said. "Give her my love."
Duncan nodded.
The rest of the meal passed in chitchat about people in common that they knew… both mortal and immortal. Sometimes it surprised Duncan just how much he and the old Watcher had in common. Or maybe it was the outgrowth of the trials they'd been through and what they'd each done for the other. Consequently… the people Joe cared about… Duncan cared about… and vice versa. When it was over and there was nothing more to say… they left.
Duncan saw Joe to his chauffeur-driven lift-van and then stood waiting in the pale December sunshine of late afternoon. Already the sky was deepening to cobalt blue… and on the horizon were threads of magenta and gold as the sun set. Like fairy lights, the lights of Paris were sprinkling on all over the city. Duncan returned to his car and climbed in. He called about reservations in Meziéres and indicated he would have a late check-in. Then he headed out of the city into the darkness of the French countryside.
The darkness deepened as he drove. In the distance he could see the lights of an occasional habitation, or the passing lights of another vehicle. His instrument panel glowed a faint green… and the world seemed defined by the glow of his headlights on the road before him. Duncan felt as if the world had shrunk to this one spot, and wondered if it might not have been better to have stayed another night in Paris.
When his phone rang, he answered. It was Amanda, calling to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.
"I thought you were going earlier today?" she pouted slightly. "I thought you might be on your way home."
"Miss me?" he teased.
"Desperately. I've had a horrid day with the contractors." She was fixing up the villa she'd inherited from Rebecca… trying to bring it into… at least the twentieth century without ruining its Old World ambiance. Had it not been her project of the month, and Duncan chuckled as he thought of her projects, she might have come with him. But if she had… what would have happened with Alisaunne?
He felt guilty about thinking of his student while talking to his lover. And yet once he'd thought of her… he found it hard to stop. He could see her laughing in the sunlight in Tunisia where he'd trained her. He could see her wide-eyed innocence when he'd first met her… and she'd asked him to sign that silly book. "Are you Duncan MacLeod?" she'd said and held out Carolyn Marsh's trashy novel. He could see it now… her resemblance to Methos. But that day… she'd only been some young pre-immortal girl.
"Are you listening to me?" Amanda said petulantly.
"I'm listening. The plumber wants to rip up the marble tile. Amanda… it's the only way to get to the pipes."
"But those tiles are fifteenth century!"
"Then tell him he has to sub-contract a tile-man who will preserve their integrity."
"Ooh… I wish you were here. You know how to talk construction!" she teased.
"I'll be home soon," he promised as he rang off. "I have to go… I see the lights ahead. I'm coming to Meziéres."
He was indeed and found his hotel… an older one with lush rooms and five-star service. For once… he wanted the best. He collapsed into the darkness of the room… and slept soundly.
Duncan was uncertain what had awakened him. It was still dark… and his watch indicated that dawn was still hours away. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed while he rubbed his head. He'd let his hair grow back out in the last two years. Amanda liked it long and had said so. He rose and made a trip to the facilities… feeling immense relief as he used them. He'd likely drunk too much yesterday and it was returning to haunt him. He was becoming far too settled in a life… and travel did not agree with him. He was getting too old for the adventures of his youth when he'd traveled Europe with an eager eye.
He was about to fall into the bed once more, when he felt the tingle of a presence… light… almost intangible… as if it floated somewhere in the night. He grasped his katana and inched quietly toward the door, but saw and heard no one in the hallway. Moreover… the presence faded slightly. Curiously he crossed to the windows and pulled aside a drape.
There in the darkness below… he noted a figure on the edge of the pools of light covering the parking lot. Someone dressed in flowing black… like some ringwraith of popular fiction… seemed to glide in the shadows… enticing him.
He leaned on the glass… breathing harshly… feeling a need and curiosity to meet the Black Widow face to face… and see if it was indeed Alisaunne. He could almost hear her in the darkness whispering for him to love her… come to her. He closed his eyes and let her presence flow over him like a warm caress. Soon, her lips were firm against his… her body taut. His katana slipped uselessly from his fingers as he explored her white body in the inky blackness of the night… He entered her… letting his passion consume him. He felt her respond to him… her face still a blur, her moans of pleasure coming faster and faster as she moved against him. He thrust harder and harder, until he was moments from release… then felt the blade at his throat.
