Disclaimer: Still the same; wish they were, but they're not!

A/N: Special thanks to ElenaG for being a loyal reviewer. And a new reviewer Kellyjean27,thanks!It means a lot to me that you take the time to review I love writing this, but sometimes I need a little encouragement.

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The elevator ground to a halt. Greg cringed as Warrick prepared his assault. Greg prayed that it was Mac about to step out of the elevator. Warrick raised his sword, advancing as the gate clanked open.

The person that met Warrick's sword with one of his own was not Duncan MacLeod. The man was tall, nearly as tall as Warrick. He was lean, but evident by the way he blocked Warrick's attack, he was strong. He held Warrick's sword back as his piercing blue eyes took every detail of the room.

Greg glanced nervously down at Nick. In his drug-induced slumber, the Texan had no clue that a sword fight was impending. Greg felt a flash of envy for the lack of knowledge. He suddenly realized that he was not ready for this. This was the type of stuff that you found in comic books, not your best friends backyard.

"Duncan, your child doesn't take to company very well." The man calmly stepped back, twisting his arms as he did. The result of his movement was the loosening of pressure between the two swords. Warrick swiveled in response, his sword aching through the air to a ready position. Greg saw Warrick shift his weight gracefully, ready and waiting for the intruder's next move. "Not to receptive to guests at all." The man's voice had a teasing tone to it, but his eyes were cold and harsh.

"Warrick, mind your manners." Mac took a teasing, paternal tone as he steeped out of the elevator from behind the man with the sword. Greg let out a pent up breath feeling a great sense of relief. "This is no way to greet guests who have come to help."

"Could ya warn a guy?" Warrick barked, lowering his sword. His stance visibly relaxed, but his eyes showed that he was still on edge. "I had no way of knowing who was coming up the elevator! Ever think of using a phone? It's the Twenty-first Century! Surely you have a cell phone you could have used!"

"I would have. I tried, except for the simple fact that your phone is turned off." Mac smirked.

"What?" Warrick reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Frowning, he studied it. "I never shut off my phone!"

"In the hospital." Greg told him, stepping forward so he could get a better look at the newcomers. "You turned it off there. I think you were afraid Grissom would call you back into the lab."

Mac stepped fully into the room, followed by the other two men. Warrick eyed them suspiciously, but Greg looked upon them with interest. The first one that stepped out from behind Mac was young, or at least looked young. He was studying Warrick and Greg with a calculating gaze, but there was a twinkle in his blue eyes that made him seem friendly. He was shorter than the others were, but carried himself as if he could handle any situation. Greg admired that air of confidence.

The young man stepped quietly to the side, having judged Warrick to be the threat, he watched him with a critical eye. Greg surmised that he had been dismissed as a non-threat. He put his gun aside. How threatening could he really be? Bringing an ineffective gun to a swordfight was no threat.

The last man to step out of the elevator surprised Greg. He did not look to be in the same category as the others. There was no air of toughness about him. He was an older man with a salt and pepper beard that matched the hair on his head. Greg knew that Immortals could be older, but his man did not seem to fit the bill. Greg was shocked to see the way the man hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a cane. The way he moved with the came reminded Greg of Doc Robbins.

The Doc Robbins look-a-like glanced the room quickly, looking from Warrick to Greg with interest. The way he looked at them was not the way the others were watching them. The way he examined them reminded Greg of Gil Grissom. This man was scrutinizing them the way Grissom analyzed his bugs. They were specimens.

"Warrick, these are my friends. This is Adam Pearson." Mac introduced the man who had drawn swords with Warrick. Warrick and the man nodded acknowledgments to one another, but that was it. "Over there is Richie Ryan." He motioned to the younger man who was now staring at Greg with interest. Evidently, only another nod of acknowledgement was required. "And this is Joe Dawson."

Warrick stepped toward the older man. "Ah, the Watcher." He eyed the man with a derogatory expression on his face. The older man didn't seem to take any offense. He simply stared back at Warrick. "You're the one that has made a career out of spying on us."

"Actually, I spy on Duncan for a hobby. I own and run a bar for my living." Joe countered, sounding unruffled by Warrick's judgmental manner. "You have your own Watcher who spies on you." The way he spat out the word "spies" was the only clue that he was irritated by Warrick's manner.

Greg could almost see the tension ebbing from Warrick and stepped forward in hopes of lightening the mood. He stuck out his hand to the closest man, the quiet one. "And I'm Greg Sanders. Evidently, one has to be an Immortal to rate an introduction." The young man grinned a boyish grin as he shook the proffered hand firmly.

"And what's with Sleeping Beauty over there?" Richie looked over at the bed pointedly. Nick was still sleeping, having never known that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

"That's Nick. The freak nearly killed him. We just checked him out of the hospital." Greg explained.

"We won't get much training out of him anytime soon." Adam commented, coming over to look down at Nick. He offered his hand to Greg with a charismatic smile. "But you, we will." Greg shook the hand, liking the man with the strange lilting accent.

"I'd like that. Seems real important that I learn…real quick." Greg agreed before going over to offer his hand to the third man. Joe shook his hand with a friendly, near-Grissom look. Greg didn't know if he liked being a bug on a microscope to this man.

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Richie approached the aloof black man with caution. "So you are the famous Warrick Brown. The Prodigal Son."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Warrick frowned at the young-looking man. He looked younger than Greg did. He looked as if he were just barely out of his teens, but Warrick knew from experience, that looks can definitely be deceiving.

"I've heard so much about you, Big Brother. You are a tough image to live up to. There's no way I could win as many awards and trophies as the great Warrick Brown. I guess you could say that I had the little brother complex. I never could earn the affections of "dear-old-dad' like you had. However, you had disappeared. He didn't know where you had gone. He didn't know if you were still alive and kicking or if you had gone off and lost your head. I was just a poor replacement."

"Mac's like a father to you?" Warrick looked at the younger man with new eyes. He had never thought of Duncan as a father figure. He was a friend. The closest he could say was that Duncan was like a brother. No, Warrick looked over to where Nick lay; Duncan wasn't even like a brother to him. Nick was his brother, not Duncan.

"I was still a kid when I met Duncan. I was seventeen and alone in the world. I'd been alone my entire life. Duncan and Tessa took me in. They became the family I'd always wanted and dreamed of." Richie confessed with a shrug. "So yeah, Mac was like a father to me. Still is."

"I met Tessa once." Warrick brought up a memory of a beautiful blonde-haired woman. "It was right before I pulled out of the Game. She was beautiful. He loved her. I heard about her…..death."

"He's never loved anyone like he loved Tessa." Richie looked across the room to where Mac was talking with the others. "He has never gotten over her."

"He never will." Warrick added sagely. "When you love someone so deeply…….it stays with you, no matter how long you live or how much time passes."

"I've never had that type of love. Have you?" Richie questioned softly, only to be answered by a slight nod. "When Tessa died, that was when I became Immortal. I wasn't like Greg. I was not told what I was before it happened. I knew what Mac was. I'd come across him and a couple of others battling it out. Mac didn't have much choice but to explain it all, except he left out the part about me being one. He would let me play around with him, but it was no real training. I was shot; I saw my life flash before my eyes…….then I woke back up. Tessa didn't." Richie sighed. "I had to have a crash course, much like Greg is about to get. Has he seen a Quickening?"

"No. He hadn't seen me with a sword in my hand until you guys showed up. He has just learned about this. I just had a bad feeling…..like a premonition. I called Mac for some advice. Then….that freak attacked Nick….."

"We'll get him." Richie vowed, feeling the need to comfort the big man. He could see the rage and desperation in his face and he felt the need to reassure him.

"I just want him found. When he is, he's mine!" Warrick growled, allowing the rage to take control. "No one goes after my friends without having to deal with me!"

Next installment set for Thursday unless I get some extra reviews, then I'll post it early. It's all up to you guys. lol