Lucas tugged at his shirt, nervously trying to smooth out any wrinkles that had escaped his last tugging only minutes before. It didn't help matters that he'd arrived over an hour ahead of when he was supposed to meet the girl, and patience wasn't something he was really good with outside of programming on his computer. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that the real world was as easy for him to deal with as cyberspace was.
He reflected on how easily Ben could do the things he couldn't. All Ben really had to do was wink or nod and someone would jump to do his bidding, Lucas bemoaned to himself. Lucas considered himself lucky if he was able to string five words together at once.
Lucas checked his watch for the tenth time. Still twenty-seven minutes to go. Damn, those were going to just crawl by. Lucas took a sip of his water and nearly choked when a voice called his name from behind. "Lucas?" He turned, looked, and felt his jaw beginning to loosen. A woman had called his name. A gorgeous woman. Green eyes, brunette hair, and a very perky smile. Then his brain caught up with his eyes and he swallowed the water first, then let his jaw open.
"Uh... Heather? I mean... yes! Yes, my name is Lucas," he blushed at his ineptitudes and cursed himself inwardly. He bet the Captain or Ben wouldn't have stammered like that. Heather didn't seem to notice his cursing and only smiled wider at his blush.
"Your picture doesn't do you justice," she said after a moment of study. Quick! What would Ben do right then? Lucas shut that line of thinking off. What Ben would do would only get himself into deep trouble.
Instead, he held out his hand to her and answered, "Same to you. It's nice to finally meet you after all this time." She took his hand and gave it a little shake. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea?"
"No, thanks. If I have anything more to drink today, I think I'll explode." Lucas smiled at that, drained his glass, and left some money on the table. "You said you'd never been to New York before," Heather continued. "Where do you want to go first?"
"I was hoping to drop by the Statue at some point," he answered, Ben's advice ringing very clearly in his ears. Heather just rolled her eyes.
"Everyone wants to see the Statue first," she snickered. "But that's alright. I never get tired of seeing it for myself. Shall we?" She held out her arm, and when Lucas didn't take it on his own, reached over and seized his arm. Lucas just blushed deeply at her forward nature and she laughed.
Unfortunately, he was so focused on her arm looped around his that he didn't notice the man standing up beside him until it was too late and Lucas ran right into him. He stammered an apology and then made his way out of the coffee shop after Heather.
Duncan supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised that Methos had turned up shortly after he'd started to work his way through the mound of paperwork that was involved with settling Connor's estate. Duncan chuckled a little at the idea of being a paperless society and yet still having a dozen different forms to sign, often in triplicate. Duncan also thought the modern tax return was a vile curse from one of the deepest pits of hell.
It also shouldn't have surprised Duncan that Methos wanted to talk about his new friend. "So what did you think?"
"I didn't really meet him long enough to form an opinion," Duncan answered without looking up.
"Since when has that ever stopped you from making a snap evaluation of a person? I seem to remember something about a walk down a Parisian street with a certain graduate student..." Methos trailed off and Duncan didn't have to look up to see the smile on the older immortal's face. Oh, how he hated Methos' ability to remember obscure facts and use them to win his arguments.
"Fine. My snap evaluation is that I'm surprised he's been able to keep his position on that sub of his. Flagships don't generally tolerate free thinkers, especially in this new world."
"Try any world, any time," Methos answered wryly. "But one of Ben's best skills is the uncanny ability to ingratiate himself with anyone around him. Though the people may despise him, he simply makes himself too valuable to get rid of. I did my best to copy him when I signed up with The Watchers."
"Does he know who you are?"
"Oh, come now, MacLeod. Do you honestly think I'd be a legend if I told everyone who I was?" Duncan winced at the condescending drip in the oldest immortal's voice, despite the fact that Methos had a valid point. "I met Ben when he was around your age, maybe a little younger. Then again, everyone is younger to me."
"Please, not while I'm working," Duncan hastily interrupted, not wanting to sit through one of Methos' tirades about how all the young people of the world don't have a chance of understanding what he does. Methos could go on for hours if you'd let him. The paperwork in front of him wasn't helping him much, either. Three times signing his name just to prove that he really did want the transaction to go through was just a little too much in Duncan's opinion, but it did help keep his wrists strong for his sword work. "You're sure that writing is such a great invention?" he groused.
"There are times when I wonder," Methos agreed. "But overall I'd have to say that it's better than the alternative. Plus I'd hate to think that I've wasted the last five thousand years in keeping a journal for nothing." No matter how long he knew him, Duncan would never get used to Methos' awesomely advanced age. Being immortal is one thing, but to deal with someone as old as Methos reminded Duncan that the world was a much larger place than even he gave it credit for.
"In all of history, has there ever been anything as irritating as financial paperwork?"
"Oh, you have no idea. In Egypt thirty-five hundred years ago the priests and scribes were the ones who'd do all of the writing. To ensure they had continued employment, they deliberately made the writing systems more complex and difficult for almost anyone else to understand. It made learning their language so much harder than it had to be. I mean, you really have no idea how annoying some of the fine details could be." Duncan just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, readying himself for another lecture. He should've known better than to get Methos started.
Big statue. That was Lucas' first impressions as he stood across the river from the green lady. Heather had been fantastic company, very entertaining and she even laughed at his admittedly pathetic jokes. She also laughed at his habit of blushing, so it all balanced out in some way. Lucas wasn't sure about which way to go from there, whether or not he should lead on since it was his first visit to New York.
But Heather seemed to have a handle on his uncertainty so she suggested they go to the ferry terminal gift shop . The odd thing about going there was that Lucas almost opened the door into someone's face. He was halfway through an apology when he noticed that it was the same man he'd nearly run over at the diner earlier in the day; even though he'd only had a fleeting view of the earlier man, he also had an exceedingly good memory. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the same person.
Having learned a few things from Ben, Lucas waited until he and Heather were deep into the store itself before asking her, "Do you know who that guy is?"
"No, why?"
"I swear he was in the diner with us earlier today."
"Don't swear, it's not nice and the adults don't like it," Heather answered, her lips curving into a smile.
"No, I'm serious. And now that I think about it, I'm sure I saw him on the subway trip we took here, too."
"And I thought people had to live in New York before becoming paranoid."
"I tell you, I'm serious," Lucas pressed. "Have you ever seen him before?" Heather snuck a look at the other man for a moment, then did a double-take and studied for a moment longer.
"Well... not personally, no."
"What do you mean?"
"You wouldn't be interested in that," she lamely tried.
"You know I'm interested in everything," he answered. She seemed to resist for a moment, then relented.
"A while back, my mother was giving me The Talk and mentioned something about about avoiding tall men in dark clothes, especially trench coats. I asked her what she meant and she told me about a time when she'd attracted the attentions of someone she really wasn't interested in. Long story short, she said it turned out into a case of stalking that she finally had to go to the police about. She said that it ended in a shootout and that the creep died on the scene. She specifically mentioned that he had two scars on the right side of his face."
Lucas took a look at the man again and sure enough, there were two prominent scars on the right side of his face. "You know..." his mouth started moving before he could assert brain control over it. Shootout, dead on the scene... the parallels to Ben's recent history were too strong to ignore. And Ben did mention that there were other immortals walking the Earth... "Let's go meet a friend of mine," Lucas suddenly spouted and then dug out his cellphone and started dialing.
"Now? I thought I was the one giving the tour?" Heather asked. "And what about that guy?"
"Humour me, please," he started, the spoke into the phone. "Hi, Commander! Not bad, not bad. How are you? Actually, yes, I did call for a reason. Where are you? I have something I need to ask Ben and I don't know where he is. We're at the statue- yes, it's still a 'we'-... stop laughing. You're at Manhattan Mall?" Lucas looked over at Heather, whom nodded that she knew where it was. "Great, we'll be there soon and see you at the main entrance. 'Bye."
"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?" Heather pressed, but didn't object when Lucas snagged her elbow and walked her out of the gift shop. Lucas didn't realize what he'd done until after they were out in the open sunshine, then he blushed and let go quickly. He flagged down a cab, got them both in the car, and turned to answer her when he suddenly saw the man in question leave the gift shop and look directly at Lucas.
After Ben's presentation in the ward room, Lucas thought he'd seen the full emotional spectrum a person could have; Ben had gone from playful and funny to deadly serious in the space of a heartbeat, and Lucas thought that was it. But looking at that man... Lucas couldn't prevent the shiver from running up his spine. All he felt was a raw fury in the gaze, mixed with icy resolve. Lucas immediately knew that it would be some nights before he'd be able to sleep without seeing that gaze in his dreams.
"A friend of mine went through something similar," he hedged after a long minute of silence, unsure of how to broach the topic of immortals without convincing her he was totally off his rocker. "I want to get his opinion on this, that's all."
"That's all?" Heather looked dubious. "And you hustled me into here... why? I told you, that creep died."
"Because..." Lucas started lamely, but sighed with relief when the driver announced that the trip would be a little longer than usual due to traffic and started a conversation, mostly with himself, about the state of major league baseball in the city. Lucas hated trying to talk to strangers, but this was the one occasion that he was glad for it.
Katie glanced over at Kristen as she put her phone into her purse. "That was Lucas, and he wants to talk to Ben."
"Dumped already?" Kristen answered, smiling over her cup of coffee. "That's got to be a record, even for him," she continued, checking her watch.
"Not yet, he said. Just said something about wanting to talk to Ben, so he's coming here."
"He's coming here so you can take him to Ben? How do you even know where Krieg is?"
"Probably at his house by now, assuming he's done with his friends. Don't look at me like that, I told you already that he's got dozens of houses across the world. New York happens to have at least one of them."
"When will Lucas get here?"
"Given traffic right now, I'd say fifteen minutes or so. Enough time to finish your drink."
Twenty minutes later, the two women were outside the main entrance and saw Lucas emerge from the taxi with a stunningly beautiful young woman and Kristen couldn't stop herself from elbowing Katie in the ribs, as if to torment the Lieutenant Commander about "losing" Lucas' interest. Katie pointedly ignored her, instead she walked over to the cab and waved at the driver that they'd be using his services again soon.
Some quick introductions aside and the foursome were off in the taxi to the address Katie supplied, and she also took over the front seat to give directions. The trip brought them over bridges, down streets, across rivers, and finally into an area where the size of the houses and properties surrounded them spoke volumes about the prices involved. Kristen whistled low as she did some mental math and came out to a staggering number.
Their final destination proved to be a smaller house that wasn't quite a mansion, but sat on a large landscaped lot and an impressive view of the river. Three of the four passengers walked up to the front door while Katie stayed behind to settle the considerable bill. An awkward silence descended as people were unsure of what to do.
Unsure, that is, until Katie walked up, pulled a keyring out of her purse and proceeded to unlock the door and walk in without invitation or request of the owner. Lucas turned an open-mouthed look onto Kristen, whom could feel her own face screwing up in a similar expression. However, that couldn't prepare them for the sight of Katie casually dropping her purse on a convenient coffee table and start into the house proper. Heather finally had enough of being left out of the loop and demanded that she be told what was going on. Lucas murmured that he'd fill her in later while Katie turned around and waved everyone inside. "He's probably in the library," the Commander said and lead the troop through a dizzying number of doors, hallways, rooms, and a staircase.
Kristen was about to ask if they would ever get there when Katie paused in front of a set of double doors for the rest of them to catch up. She didn't even knock as she opened them both wide and walked in, and sure enough, Ben was sitting in there. He looked up from his book at the intrusion and smiled.
Kristen opened her mouth to greet the man when her voice stuck in her throat. "Library" was certainly an apt description for the room, given that the walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were crammed with all manner of items. The room was a full two stories and Kristen craned her neck to see just how high up the ceiling was. Katie was right when she said her ex-husband was the pack-rat type.
Ben finally noticed that someone other than Katie had arrived and stood up to formally greet his guests. His eyes lit up when they fell upon Heather and his grin widened. Kristen could see his ex-wife roll her eyes in mild disgust at his reaction. "Hello, I'm Ben Krieg. I don't believe I've met you," he said and held out his hand to the girl. When she took it to shake it, Ben changed tactics and brought her knuckles up to his mouth and bowed his head as if to kiss them.
Lucas was having none of that, though, and hastily took Heather's hand out of Ben's and clutched to it possessevly. Ben saw that and his eyes sparkled brighter in humour, though he didn't press further. "So what brings you to my house?" Lucas glanced at Heather, whom was obviously reluctant to talk to a stranger but sighed and started her story again at his proddings.
Kristen could feel her eyebrows raising when Heather mentioned the part about how the stalker had died in a hail of bullets and she could see that Ben caught on right away. "Yes, it does sound very similar to a friend of mine," he said, smoothly lying through his teeth, "and her story didn't end quite so nicely. It turned out that the sicko had a son who tattooed himself with his father's marks and tried to live out the stalker's last act. It wasn't pretty in the end," he confided.
"You think that's what's going on here?" Heather asked, her eyes widening in fear. "That my mom's stalker's son is trying to finish his father's fantasy?" Then she paused and considered the absurdity of what she just said. Fortunatly, Ben noticed this as well and spoke up before she could question the tale being spun.
"Or some whacko copying the stalker. Given how much information is freely available in this day and age, it's not surprising that more and more people are finding out about crimes like that and feeding their twisted viewpoints." Heather thought about that and then nodded. "In fact, I've got a book in here somewhere that deals with just that subject." Ben wandered over to a shelf and pulled a volume off after a short search. He handed it to her and entreated her to sit in his chair and read it for herself.
After a moment of hesitation, Heather was quickly engrossed in the book if the look on her face was anything to go by. Still, Kristen took care to lower her voice a bit when Ben pulled the two other women to the far side of the room. "Well?"
"Well what?" Ben answered, his voice just as soft.
"Now what happens?"
"I don't know, it depends on who's involved."
"Anyone you recognize?" Katie asked.
"Any immortals, you mean? Not off hand, no, but I do have some contacts in the city that I can call for information. If this guy's been in New York all this time then he's bound to have run into some of the regulars."
"Regulars?" Kristen asked, not liking the sound of that.
"Regular as meaning an immortal who's lived in New York for centuries and doesn't leave very often. It's not all that uncommon, really. Some of us like to travel, some of us don't. Every city has at least a couple of those that put down roots, and in a big way."
"So if you figure out who he is, what are you going to do?"
"Find him and talk to him, of course."
"Is that such a wise idea?" Kristen glanced over at Lucas, who was leaning over Heather's shoulder and reading the book with her. Kristen couldn't help but recognize how young the two kids were, how sad that they had gotten involved in something well over their heads through no fault of their own.
"Wise as opposed to burying our heads in the sand and pretending he's not out there?" Ben countered. "Of course, he might not be immortal. He might actually be a son or a whacko or whatnot. But we'll never know unless I ask some questions."
"How long will that take?" Katie asked, following Kristen's gaze to the teens.
"Depends on how many calls I need to make. I'll get started on that now, so why don't the two of you see if you can get some food from the kitchen and make nice with the children."
"They're not children, Krieg," Kristen countered, despite the fact that that's exactly how she saw them.
"To me, they are. To me, you all are," Ben answered with a shrug, then turned around and walked out. Kristen shot an exasperated look at Katie, who just shrugged like her ex-husband and started towards the kitchen, towing Kristen along behind her by grabbing the woman by the arm and pulling.
It took less than an hour for Ben to finally make some headway, and by then the four guests had put the books away and migrated to the more comfortable living room and were engaged in light conversation that was obviously forced to cover the gloom that would otherwise be suffocating.
Kristen was the first to notice Ben joining them, long overcoat already hanging over his arm. "I have an errand to run in the city, so feel free to enjoy yourselves here until I get back. Except you, Lucas. Don't enjoy yourself too freely, and stay away from the bedrooms," Ben joked, shaking a finger and winking baudily at the teen. "You should probably call the Captain and let him know what's going on," he continued and nodded at the phone.
While Kristen picked up the phone and started dialing, she could see Katie follow Ben to the front door to see him off. They exchanged words briefly before Ben opened the door and walked out and for a moment, Kristen could've sworn that she saw a glint of metal underneath his long jacket. Then the phone connected on the other end and she braced herself for what was going to be an unpleasant conversation.
Father James was a thirty year veteran of the Catholic church and all its functions. He knew that if anyone were to ask for advice on any topic, he'd be able to answer it with the ease that such experience gives. A Tuesday afternoon wasn't normally the most popular time to go to church, so it was quite surprising for him to walk in and find a man sitting in one of the benches, apparently without purpose. So being the naturally helpful person that he was, Father James walked over and tried to find out what sort of ailment the fellow's soul needed.
He approached the lazing guest with the well-used smile of polite intention that Father James had perfected early on in his career, despite the fact that the stranger only opened his eyes as the footsteps echoed in the empty building. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Not really, Father. Just meeting someone here."
"Then why come inside?"
"Benches are more comfortable than standing," the man answered with a smile. Then he started looking around, as if he'd heard something. Father James looked around for the source of the noise, but quickly gave up. While his ability to listen was as sharp as ever, his hearing wasn't as good as it was in his youth. It wasn't until the front door closed that Father James realized that there was ineed a newcomer in the church.
In his thirty years, Father James had never seen someone as evil looking as the new man did. Strange looking, yes. Tough looking, sure. Silly looking, most definitly. But somehow this new person just radiated evil like a tangable thing, rolling off him in waves. It was the gaze, James decided. It was the look of his eyes that made James reflexivly grip his crucafix and say a small prayer.
That look was not lost on the first man, Father James noted, whom stood to greet the second one with a wary expression. They didn't shake hands, didn't express any sort of greeting or cordial companionship. Something was definitly up. His curiosity piqued, James couldn't quite stop himself from grabbing a bucket with some cleaning supplies and slipping into one of the confessional booths across the side of the church proper, which just so happened to be close enough to let someone as hard of hearing as himself to catch most of the conversation between the strangers.
"-en Krieg," the first man said. "I'm told you've been spending time around some friends of mine."
"Sam Benti," the other man replied, his voice low and raw, fitting in with his looks easily. "Not interested in your little friends, pal. Just the girl."
"Interested how?"
"Interested in the way any man is in a girl like her." James didn't have to see the man to know he was sneering.
"Don't you think Heather's a little young for you?" Krieg asked and James winced. He despised cradle-robbing.
"Age has nothing to do with this. I will have her." Benti wasn't going to win any more points in James' book with comments like that.
"Like you tried to have her mother?"
"Oh ho, she told you about that? That's not my fault. Things would've gone so much smoother if that bitch had just agreed with me and been done with it."
"You don't see anything wrong with what you did?"
"Why should I? They're not like us, pal. You make it sound like those women matter or something."
"Oh, brother," Krieg breathed to himself.
"The mother rebuffed me," Benti continued, his voice quiet and menacing. "So I will have the daughter. Is there any more fitting punishment than for her to watch helplessly as I do to her daughter what she so selfishly kept me from doing to herself?"
"Let this drop. Just leave town and forget all about them. It'll be safer for you in the long run." Father James blinked at the steely resolve in Krieg's voice.
"What? Just give up like that? Not a chance. Nobody ever tells me no and gets away with it. And I'm going to give you fair warning, pal: Don't get in my way. I don't care what you think you can do for them, but you won't stop me. Ever." Benti's voice had gone from soft menace to maniacal ranting.
Father James couldn't stand any more. He noisily clattered his tools into his bucket and walked out, taking a glance over at the enterence. The men were still standing, but James' gaze was taken by the open looks of hostility both men were weraing, the way electricity seemed to crackle in the air between them. Having been witness to many gangland activities in his time, James was sure that they were about to start fighting on the spot and he started to walk over to the phone in his office in case he needed to dial 9-1-1.
His movement seemed to attract their attentions because the two men focused on him with that murderous intent, and he froze like a deer caught in headlights. Then Benti glared back at Krieg, and walked out of the church while calling, "Don't you forget that," over his shoulder. Krieg stared after him for a long time, the heat and fury from his gaze would have been enough to melt plate steel. Then he sighed and seemed to collect himself before walking over to Father James, who was still rooted in place.
"I know you were listening in on us, Father, but don't try anything."
"Wh- what do you mean," Father James' voice quaved like it hadn't in years. He had to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth.
"What you heard isn't quite what you thought your heard. I'm sure you're taking it all out of context and I don't want to get anyone else involved in a big misunderstanding."
"How can that be taken out of context or be a misunder-"
"Besides, you were in the confessional booth. That alone requires you to keep your silence," Krieg smoothly interrupted. "Semantics and technicalities aside, are you the sort of person who could honestly look at himself in the mirror in the mornings if you broke those vows?" Krieg pressed, then turned on his own foot and walked out of the chuch. "Oh, and Father? Don't worry. This will all be taken care of, and for the better. You have my promise on that."
Then he was out the door and James could feel his knees beginning to give out. He sagged against the bench and prayed to God that Krieg was right about that.