Chapter Eleven
Florence, Italy:

Thrusting a few things into his overnight bag, Duncan closed his ears to Amanda's protestations.

"You do know this isn't a good idea. Remember the last time?"

Duncan sighed. "It can't be helped. As I said… I want to meet with Joe, Amy and Burt… and I might as well check on Alisaunne while I'm there. I'll be gone maybe a week."

"Then I'm going with you."

"Not that I wouldn't appreciate it, Amanda, but why?" Duncan closed his bag and turned to grin at her. His dark eyes sparkled in amusement at her pacing.

"Why? Every time you see that girl something happens!"

The grin left Duncan's face. "Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. Besides… last time… it wasn't me she was trying to seduce."

"Only because you weren't alone. I'm going and that's all there is to it. Either we are together in this… or we're not." She pulled several outfits from her closet and tossed them on the bed, angrily pulling the hangers out.

Duncan smiled thoughtfully.

Amanda, noticing his faraway look, queried him. "What?"

"You sound like Tessa. She said something similar once."

Amanda paused momentarily; then continued removing the hangers. "And what happened when she said that," she asked quietly. One of the things Methos and Eleanor had explained to her was the importance of understanding and accepting Duncan's other loves if they were ever to be more to one another than just occasional lovers.

Duncan pulled another, slightly larger bag from the closet. "She was right. If we are together… then we're together."

Amanda grinned happily as she packed.

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They were in Paris within four hours and ensconced at the Meyers' household in the visitor bungalow at the rear of the garden.

Joe leaned on the arm of his chair and grinned as he listened to their on-going argument. He shook his head and wondered if the teasing went on all the time. Because of his "special" relationship with Mac and Amanda… he was their "Watcher Emeritus". In other words… he kept in touch… they shared things with him… and he wrote up "official" entries for the Chronicle. Other than that… Mac's and Amanda's Watchers stayed at a distance unless either of them met up with a challenge.

Mac had met with five challenges in the last twelve years, while Amanda had met with one. Joe had not been there to see them… but each of the immortals had called him the next day with the information. While the official reports were the when, where and who… Joe's often contained the why… and the history.

"You know…" Joe finally managed to insert during a long pause. "You two have argued about some of this stuff for as long as I've known you."

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and regarded the Watcher with a smirk. "Longer."

Mac reached over and pulled her into his arms. "And making up is so much fun."

Joe snorted. "On that note… maybe I'd better skedaddle for a bit and give you old folks some privacy." With a wink and a grin, he hit the control pad and his chair turned to scoot off through the garden. He heard the bungalow door close behind him. They'd built the bungalow out here as those two were often rather… loud… and Amy thought it might be better for them to have some privacy. Joe chuckled… not to mention the twins' curiosity about them when they were younger.

Later at dinner, the conversation was free and easy. There was no talk of why they were here. Much of it centered around the twins' activities and their schoolwork. It was only after they'd retired for the evening… that the adults gathered closely together to discuss the real reasons for the visit.

"You know those kids are bright," Amanda said. "I'd bet they know more about what's going on than you think they do."

"Guessing and knowing are two different things," Burt replied. He held out the decanter and Amanda nodded. "We'll tell them eventually about you all and about what we do… but not until they're older… at least out of school."

"And they don't listen at the door?" smirked Duncan as he settled back into a settee and reached for the offered drink.

"Trust me," Amy laughed. "If I doubted for one moment that Dawson wasn't on the phone with Celeste or that Abby didn't have her nose in a book… I'd postpone this discussion."

"So," Joe shifted in his chair… cricking his neck, "what more do you think we know?"

Duncan sat forward, holding the glass between his hands. "Have there been any additional sightings? Has he met with anyone? Is Methos searching?"

Amy laughed. "No! No! And yes! Anything else?"

"Look," Joe added. "Other than the fact that all of us realized that was Derrick in that photo… most of the Watchers are oblivious to his being one of you. After all… most still subscribe to 1985 being the date of the last newborn immortal. And except for Derrick… that does seem to be holding true."

"So no one in Watchers except you three really know who he is?"

"Well… several received the memo and fax as I did… but evidently it was filed away as possibly a sighting of an immortal we'd lost track of. Rather than send someone looking for him, the West Coast Watchers have simply been told to keep an eye out for a male immortal interacting with one of theirs. So far… nothing else has been reported."

Mac sat back, letting Amanda snuggle into his side. He draped an arm about her shoulders and hugged her. "That's strange." He paused. "Methos hasn't had any luck?"

Joe shook his head. "He's on the road. He wanted to take that new car of his out and really see what she could do. His Watcher is with him. She says they detoured to Chicago to avoid a confrontation with one of his old friends."

Duncan suddenly looked serious. "Anyone I should know about?"

Amy shook her head. "An old flame, evidently. There is nothing in her file to indicate she's any kind of a threat. We didn't even know they knew one another. We're trying to put the pieces together now."

Duncan hugged Amanda tighter as he murmured. "I wonder what Eleanor thinks of her?"

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Niebos:

Eleanor studied the digital readout of Kenny's chart on the PDA and then reached forward to brush his blonde hair out of his eyes. "You're about due for a haircut again."

"I swear," Grace said from behind her. "His hair seems to grow at twice the rate some of the others'.

"He's a boy," Eleanor added, cupping her hand on his chin and staring thoughtfully into his blank eyes. She sighed and dropped her hand as she continued to study his chart. "There are some aberrations in his EEG."

"I saw those. But there have been no other signs that he or any of the others will return." Grace slowly shifted one foot back and forth as she waited for Eleanor to move on. She'd asked Eleanor to look at the data with fresh eyes… she always asked her… but it still bothered her a bit that sometimes the small dark-haired immortal could just sense things about the patients… long before the data supported it. Eleanor had been the first to sense that Carl was finally re-awakening five years ago.

"Still… it might be wise to keep a close eye on him for a while." Eleanor stood and handed the PDA to Grace. "That's everyone isn't it?"

Grace nodded. She glanced up and down the ward… her twenty patients lay like the dead… except she could sense them… immortal… yet not really here… still lost in the dream-state they'd been forced to endure. Part of their quickening had been drained into the mortals… and when the mortals had been killed… the quickening had returned to the immortals… at least that is what they thought had happened. But whatever spark of life that made them aware seemed to have been destroyed… or at least short-circuited. They lived… but they failed to revive. Grace sighed. "I just wish I knew what to do."

Carl's slow voice could be heard on the terrace as he attempted to sound out words.

Eleanor stared at him. "Carl is the hope that all of them might eventually come back."

"I know," Grace agreed. She laid one hand on her swelling abdomen as she regarded John. As they were unbonded… she did not know his thoughts… but she knew that he was focused on Carl… and repaying the debt he thought he owed the other immortal. He'd killed Carl within the dream-state… and he felt responsible that the man's mind and memories had been compromised somehow. Grace had thought a child important for several reasons. One: a child by her would be proof that it was possible for other immortals. Two: she wanted a child… John's child. She knew that they didn't really know one another well enough to be bonded, but a child might help on that path. Besides… once the truth of children was revealed to other immortals… this child would prove that it could be done without the bonding.

She'd spoken to Phillip, Methos, Eleanor, and the others and received their blessing. Once she had John's agreement and had found the third… they'd been given the instructions and had moved forward with their plans.

Beside her, as if in understanding, Eleanor leaned in with a hug and laid her hand on Grace's… allowing a small burst of energy to sustain her friend. "I think she wants one of her dads for a long touch," she winked.

Grace nodded.

John glanced up at her with a smile but then returned his attention to Carl. Grace sighed. "I need to go find Greg."

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Behind them… Kenny's eyes focused momentarily… aware of the two immortals standing before him. Then his eyes glazed over once more. It was happening more frequently… this sudden shifting from the well in which he was trapped to this other room where he could sense other immortals nearby. So far… Kenny had no idea which of the two worlds was the real one. He circled about the deep well and stared up at the passing clouds… the clouds tinged pink like cotton candy… in a sky far too blue and faraway.

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Southern Colorado:

Tracy Morgan still had no clear idea as to what had actually happened. She was confronted by information that failed to clearly make sense.

A week ago she'd been following her assignment, Caspar Wingate, at a discreet distance when she'd blown a tire. Changing it had taken maybe half an hour in the gathering gloom of evening. By the time she'd hit the road again… she'd lost him. He'd turned off somewhere or gone somewhere that she hadn't thought of.

Tracy had shrugged, filed her missing immortal report and put out an APB on Wingate's car, a late-model Toyota Camry… red. The car had turned up finally… in a used car lot. Fearfully Tracy had come to check it out.

After ascertaining that the car was indeed Wingate's, Tracy went to interview the manager, and show him Wingate's photo.

"Yes'm… that's him… that's the feller that sold me the Camry." The manager, a hulking fellow with long gray hair tied in a ponytail and a long unkempt beard seemed to enjoy towering over her and standing just a tad too close… within her personal space. But as Tracy wanted information, she smiled pleasantly and continued with her questions.

"You're certain? Was he alone?"

The manager leaned over to one side and hawked and spit, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. "Nope… there was another feller with him."

"Did you get a look at him? Can you give me a description?"

"Nope. He stayed in his car… a late nineties Taurus. Them things had good engines. Now I told this feller if'n he'd wait around a few days… I could fix the Camry. He seemed plenty peeved that his new car had quit on him while his friend's old one was still goin' strong. He said that it didn't seem fair!"

"But he didn't wait?"

"Nope! He jest took the money and left." Graybeard stepped even closer.

Tracy'd had enough. She grabbed one of his ham-fisted hands and jerked it around to his back as she turned him and slammed him against the outside wall of the office. She heard some of the vinyl siding crack and gave thanks for the martial arts courses now included as part of field duty. "A Watcher's first duty is to survive! If a Watcher doesn't survive… we lose data!" her instructor had yelled.

Shoving his arm up ever higher, Tracy asked again. "And he left with his friend in the Taurus. What color?"

"The car? Owwww! That hurts! Beige… or dirty white. It was kinda beat-up and rusty lookin'."

"Did you get a license plate number?"

"No!"

Tracy pulled two twenties from a pocket and shoved them into Graybeard's T-shirt pocket. She released his arm and back away. He turned, rubbing his arm thoughtfully as he gazed at her. Then he pulled the money out… looked at it and grinned as he stuffed it into his front jeans pocket. "Nice doin' bizness wit' you, lady." He tilted his hips forward and back provocatively while he grinned.

Tracy stomped angrily back to her car. Wingate was still alive… but it would take some real detective work to find him now. She sat for a minute trying to decide the best course of action. Finally she started the ignition and headed for a motel. She needed to think this through… but likely… she'd just have to wait until Wingate was sighted by someone. He was a headhunter… and Tracy doubted it would be too long before he turned up again.

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Seacouver, WA:

Mona Taylor nearly gagged as she pulled on the dirty old coat that was part of her "costume." She tucked her hair under the wig and pulled on the battered hat. Glancing in the mirror of her car… an old one… safely parked several blocks away… she made certain she looked disgusting and wild-eyed, then got out and trudged the three blocks to the Helping Hand Mission. She came in daily at dinnertime to check on her immortals… Michelle Webster and David Keogh. Technically… she was just Michelle's Watcher… but David's had come down with food poisoning last week and rather than introduce someone else into this closed little society that frequented the mission, she was watching both of them.

Not that they ever really did anything. She doubted either one had met a challenge of any sort in the last four years. They didn't really seem to hang out in the areas that immortals frequented. Mona had thought she'd get to go to cocktail parties or nightclubs when she got her first assignment. She'd never dreamed it would be someone who helped run a mission for the poor.

Mona pulled open the door and sighed as she saw the line. Good thing she wasn't really hungry… although the food here was pretty good… or at least filling. She slumped over and looked about the hall… mentally ticking off all the familiar faces in their regular spots. Finally she was at the table.

"Hello Mona," Michelle smiled at her warmly and checked off her name. She handed the woman a card. "We have grilled cheese today."

Mona hmmphed… took the card and moved over to the food line. Through the access window to the kitchen she could see Keogh. Well, they were both here… now all she had to do was eat and leave. A blonde young woman she'd not seen before filled her plate.

"You're new!" Mona spat out.

"Aye… " the woman smiled. "Call me Connie."

Mona nodded, gathered her filled plate and had a seat. She stared at the Jell-O and fruit, the grilled cheese, and the tomato wedge. Gingerly she picked up the sandwich and took a bite… chewing thoughtfully.

A man sat down across from her. Mona glanced up and for a moment was transfixed by eyes so blue that she was startled. He smiled. "Are you happy in your work Mona?"

Mona swallowed her bite of food and nodded.

"It pays well?" He reached out and clasped one of her slender hands in one of his larger ones. He straightened her long fingers gently and ran his thumb over her nails.

Mona stared at her clean hand with its professional French manicure. Slowly she balled her hand and pulled it back. Then she looked once more into the man's eyes.

"Does this job make you happy?"

"No," she said truthfully.

"Then why continue? Shouldn't you find something to do that fills your heart with joy?"

Mona nodded.

The man smiled, rose and moved on. Mona sat for a minute. "I've been made," she thought. She glanced guiltily towards Michelle who saw her and smiled. Mona left… tossing her still-filled plate of food into the trash on her way out. When she reached the car… she tore off the hated coat and threw it onto the curb. Flinging the hat and wig with it. Climbing into the car… she took a deep breath and mentally began composing her request for transfer.

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