Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer. They are being borrowed and returned hopefully in about the same shape they were taken in. Jeff, Emmy, and just about everyone else, belong to me. You can use them if you like, just return them please.
Chapter 30
As Damien walked out of the bar, he felt the familiar buzz of an Immortal. He looked down the street, thinking he'd finally see Marcus waiting for him. Instead, he saw the same young Immortal he had followed from the bike shop. "You do turn up in odd places," he began, while walking towards the boy. His impression from earlier was unchanged. This one was not overly tall, with excellent conformation and a face that brought to mind the bust of young Hercules. All dark blond curls and angry blue eyes, he had met his first death as a young adult.
"Only when I'm trying to find someone," he replied.
"Then you've changed your mind and are going to tell me where Marcus is?" Damien asked, a smile growing across his face.
The young-seeming man shook his head. "No, see, I've never really been good about playing ball, and well, I hate it when people think I'm just a kid. So, I figured I'd do Marcus a favor. After all, he does have another Immortal in the city he's trying to take care of himself right now. He doesn't need two."
Damien laughed, "Come now, you don't mean to challenge me? You can't be more than a century old. Look, I don't care if you don't tell me where Marcus is, but don't insult me by making a challenge again, or I will be forced to end your short life."
The young Immortal smiled, "You know, I've heard that one before, and I'm still here."
Damien shrugged, drawing his sword, "Suit yourself," he said and then he lunged forward to attack the younger man.
Rick parried that lunge with ease, and then the two really began to circle each other. As they did, they moved out of the street and into the shadows behind the bar. The cops would not bother with a part of town like this, as long as it was off the street. The fight really began. There were thrusts and parries, dodges and a few near misses, and that was when Damien began to find himself a little uncertain. "You're very good. Who trained you, may I ask?"
With a dark smile the other man answered, "Duncan MacLeod. You might have heard of him."
A hiss escaped Damien's lips. Though he had never actually met MacLeod, he was well aware of the man's reputation as a keen and dangerous player in the Game. He had a reputation also for taking the heads of people he did not like. He was, by all accounts, a great friend, and an even greater enemy. "Well, no matter your heritage, you are not Duncan MacLeod."
"You're right, I'm not." With that, the boy seemed to fall to the ground, but it was a deliberate move enabling him to kick Damien's feet out from under him and jump back up to a standing position. The next flash of his leg knocked Damien's sword spinning away, and he followed it with a knee to the stomach. For a moment, their eyes met. "There can be only one."
Damien laughed as the sword came down, and was silenced when it sliced through his neck.
Rick was late opening his place the next morning. He had stayed up a little too late drinking, and even Immortals got hangovers at least for the first hour after waking, then everything went back to normal, and life went on as planned. It was not that he was late to work. The shop did not officially open until nine, and he had always been there around half past seven. It was just today that he arrived an hour later. He had slept in after his night of binging. This was in order to escape the migraine headache altogether.
It worked too. That was one thing that Rick really did love about being immortal. Consequences of stupidity did not last quite as long. Not that he often decided to get so drunk that he could not see straight. If you wanted to stay alive, you did not party through the night very often. It left you much too vulnerable to attack. He would get drunk when the occasion called for it, though. He did so every time he took a head. It was his way of toasting life, reminding himself that he was alive, and in his own way punishing himself for taking someone's life. Oh, he understood that killing other Immortals was part of surviving, but it did not make it any easier for him. He had learned long ago, as a young Immortal only a couple years into the game, that he was not by nature a killer. Not for revenge, and certainly not for glory. He did it because, sometimes, he felt it needed to be done. When it did not need to be done, well... Life was too important, and too short (even if you could live forever) to waste it chasing after every other Immortal that happened to walk down your street.
He had also decided, after everything that had happened with Mac, that it was also too short to trust it into the hands of any other Immortal, friend or not. Emmy had changed his attitude. She had reawakened the desire within him to interact with other Immortals. To see and to speak with those who shared the loneliness of watching everyone around you grow older as you stayed the same. In his case, an Immortal who would physically by nineteen forever. With some tips from Methos, he had learned disguise his physiological age. You came into an area presenting yourself as the youngest you could possibly pass, loose clothing and an ambling walk disguising both muscles and trained coordination, clean-shaven and an open expression disguising the weight of your thoughts. Over the years you kept an eye on clothing trends and stuck to the fashions popular in the age group you were pretending to be, shifting along with it your expressions. When you wanted to appear older, it was often a matter of allowing the weight of your memories to reach your eyes. Dying your hair to make it look like you are dying your hair to hide the greying... making it more obvious that you were doing physical fitness such as body-building, so that people would think you were trying to hang on to your youth. Keeping himself active enough to fight any Immortals that might wander through that he could not avoid.
Now, here he was on an adventure to try and reconnect with the man who on more than one occasion had tried to kill him. Why, he was not sure, but he knew one thing: Duncan Macleod deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know that he had not murdered Richie Ryan.
He sat down and did his morning paperwork, greeting both Manuel and Mike as they came in to start their days. He assigned them out a couple of bikes apiece. They were continuously busy, especially now that it was mid-June. The few bikers who actually stored their bikes during the winter were getting them checked up for the summer, and those who rode them all of the time were having them re-tuned.
After he had finished the morning paperwork, Rick called Marcus. He wanted to find out if things had been resolved on his end, and tell him about Damien. He was hoping that Marcus would not be angry about Rick's taking his head. No matter the consequences the deed was done, and he should tell the man.
After three rings, Marcus' secretary Tasha picked up the phone. Rick identified himself and she put him on hold. He often wondered what she thought his and Marcus' relationship was. She knew he was not a client, but perhaps thought her boss had an obsession with motorcycles. Either way, Marcus paid her not to ask questions about his life, so she did not.
Marcus came on the line, his tone cautiously friendly. "Rick, I was wondering if I'd hear from you anytime soon."
"It's nice to hear your voice and know you're still alive and kicking, Marcus." Marcus grunted into the phone, but did not say anything. Rick tried a little cautiously, "Have you caught this guy Edward, yet?"
"No, I was close, I think he's gone underground. Do you think your friend Jeff could find out if he's left the city? He seems to have a knack for getting that kind of information."
"Probably, I'll get him on it this afternoon. Marcus, have you ever heard of a Damien Leadholm?"
Marcus swore in a language Rick did not know and said urgently, "The man is a killer. If you see him again, don't listen to anything he has to say, just kill him."
"Already done. It seems he thought he had some unfinished business with you, and while trying to get that unfinished business solved he happened to step on my toes. I cut off his head last night."
There was just a beat of, Rick imagined, surprised silence. Then Marcus said, "Good. That is one less piece of trash floating around this world pretending to play God."
"Agreed. Look, I have a business to run, and a couple more phone calls to make. I'll call you back, or send Jeff over, if he can find anything out."
"The help would be appreciated. Thank you, my friend."
"No problem."
Rick set the receiver down and smiled to himself, feeling a strange wave of nostalgia as he thought about what Marcus had said. He had called him a friend. As he thought back on his time in Florida, he realized that he had made more friends than he had allowed himself to believe.
There was Jeff, of course, in all his craziness. Lisa, the bartender he always visited on Friday nights when he had no clients. A good number of former clients probably qualified as friends. Manuel and Mike often went to the bar with him as well. He knew their wives, and in Manuel's case, had been to his oldest daughter's wedding. Though he wanted to visit Paris again and make things right with Mac, he was not prepared to leave here quite yet. Not for good, anyway. He had too much of a life here and would not become Mac's protégé again. He was his own person now. A businessman in his own right and that was an achievement he had made on his own.
Now was the time for making amends and filling in the gaps, but it was not the time for leaving. He could probably pull off another ten years here. Now was the time for making something that you already had even better than it was, and that was what Rick intended to do. He hit the speed dial on his cell phone and waited for Jeff to pick up.
"Hey boss, what's up?"
"Marcus says this Edward guy's gone underground. Think you can find him and tell Marcus where he is?"
"I'm not supposed to tell Marcus stuff, only you. But I can tell you where he is." Jeff managed to sound both put upon and pleased.
Rick sighed and rolled his eyes, "Okay, fine, whatever, just let me know today, will you?"
"Sure, oh impatient and testy one."
"Hey, I'm in a good mood today, I'll have you know."
Jeff laughed, "So what's on your mind then?"
"Just how I hope you know, and Em knows, I'm not planning on staying in Paris."
"Yes! That is officially the best news I've heard all day!" Jeff crowed.
"Why are you so excited about that, anyway?"
"Because that means I can start taking Photography classes at the Miami Art Institution when we get back. You know: up my game."
"Don't want to live in Paris, huh?"
"Rick, I don't speak French and Parisians don't like Americans anymore. So no, visiting is fun, it's something new, I can explore, use up a couple of memory cards in my camera, and then come back to my home and figure out my life. Speaking of Paris, have you decided when we're leaving yet?"
"No, it's kind of up to Amanda to tell you the truth. I think she's enjoying the sun a little too much to want to leave right away. We could be looking at July before either one of them is up for a change. The two haven't spent this much time together for over fifty years. I think they are partially catching up. It's one of the reasons that you haven't heard a word from her, except for our usual dinner dates. To be honest, I've seen almost as little of her as you have. Sad fact of life, we are replaceable by best friends."
"That's the truth. Okay, well keep me informed. I mean I kind of want to register for a couple of classes, but if we are going to be late getting back to the states... I may have to wait until next semester."
"It's not going to be that long, Jeff, so quit worrying, and make sure you find out about Edward. I need to make another phone call."
"In other words, quit yapping and start working. Got ya. I'll call you later, if I can find anything out."
"Sounds good Jeff, see you later!"
Rick hung up the phone and then began to dig in his desk. The number he was searching for was hiding in there somewhere. There was, of course, the off chance it was not good anymore. Rick had not called it since he graduated college four years ago and well, the owner liked to disappear. Not that Rick blamed him. If he was as old, he would want to make sure he could not be found out by the bad guys, too. At the bottom of the drawer, he finally found the book he was looking for. It was an old address book that he used to carry in college. It had a lot of random numbers in it. Most of them were no longer valid, but on the back inside cover, simple labeled under M, he had stashed Methos' number. He had always thought that Methos was an odd guy. He seemed too young sometimes to be as old as he said he was, but that was part of his charm. It was also part of how he survived. He was more devious than anyone Rick had ever met, and he had met some pretty devious people in South America.
He dialed the number and held his breath. The phone actually began to ring. It only made it through two rounds before the old man's voice came on, sounding rough. "Hello?"
Rick spoke past a sudden lump in his throat. "Hey old timer, how are you?"
"I was better a minute ago, while I was sleeping. What do you want?" came the cross reply. That was the thing about Methos. He could get very grumpy if you interrupted him at the wrong time.
Rick found himself smiling. It may have seemed long to him since they had spoken, but to Methos it must feel like only yesterday. "Sorry, didn't know it was night time where you are. I'll call back later, when would be good?"
Rick heard Methos sigh on the other end of the phone, "Rick, you haven't called in four years. Whatever it is you want to ask me is going to bug me more if I have to wait for it, than if you just ask me now, and let me go back to sleep knowing I've solved the problem."
The smile blossomed into a grin at how wrong he was. "I just wanted to know if you'd come to Paris with us around July. I'm going to tell Mac the truth."
A small noise like a snort graced his ear, and Rick covered his mouth to keep back a laugh. Methos said, "You're serious, aren't you? Fourteen years of pretending to be dead, and now all of a sudden you've decided to reenter the Immortal world. What's changed?"
"I met Emerald."
"Ah. Yes, that would do it." Amusement was strong in Methos' voice.
"Were you in love with her once?" Rick felt compelled to ask, a vague discomfort in his stomach.
Methos' casual reply put him at ease. "Me, no. Emmy has always been more like the little sister I never wanted than anything else. No, but Fitzcairn was in love with her. There were times I almost thought that if Emmy had shown some interest, he would have married her."
"No way!" Rick laughed.
"He wasn't the sort to settle down with another Immortal, but she was special to him. Tell me, how does Emmy feel about you? She's never been one to fall for Immortals. Actually, she hardly ever fell for anyone for more than a couple of years."
"She told me that. I think, though, I'm not positive, that she loves me as much as I love her. She's changed, too. I think finally marrying someone changed her."
Methos' tone acquired a dark note. "From what I heard, and what I followed, by the end she was simply waiting for him to die."
"That doesn't mean it didn't change her. Or am I still the same over-eager gullible Immortal you met in Seacover in '96?"
"No, it's true, you have both changed quite a bit since the first time I met you. Very well then, it's been about a year since I visited Duncan, and if we are going to throw an Immortal party, I might as well be there to make sure the beer stays fresh."
Rick laughed, "Good, I will be excited to see you."
The past few days had blended together for Emmy. She had not really allowed herself to have this much down time in years. It was nice to just kick back and have fun, but at the same time she was beginning to miss Rick quite a bit. It was wonderful to see Amanda, but she still wanted to spend time with her new boyfriend.
Boyfriend was such a lame word. How did you describe the beginning of a romance, though? Especially one you were hoping might potentially last forever? Immortality opened up the amount of time one had to spend. Emmy had found it a pain, and as she had told Rick, she was not planning-or rather expecting, in all honesty-to be the last Immortal standing, she just wanted to enjoy the ride as long as she could. Enjoying the ride now meant spending time with Rick. Richie had been his name before he "died". The one he was born with. Well, Richard, but that did not seem to fit him at all. Richard was much too formal for the laid-back and soft-spoken Rick. Now that she thought about it, Rick seemed to fit him better than his name from before. The Cloud part was kind of silly, but she got it. It was his way of holding onto Duncan MacLeod when he thought that part of his life was over. He wanted to make sure that at least he never forgot his teacher. Even after everything he had been through, and all the ways he had tried to run away, he still felt a great deal of respect and appreciation for his teacher. He might even still love Duncan as a father or an older brother.
The interesting thing was, he was not like Duncan at all. He was his own person from start to finish. He had recreated himself since he knew Duncan. Amanda had said that herself. She had said she could not believe the change in him. He was cultured. He knew about things. He could talk about almost any subject with some authority, and his life went beyond being Duncan's MacLeod's financial advisor, something Emmy had to stop herself from laughing at when her own teacher told her about it.
Amanda had said she remembered Richie being a skirt chaser and a little naive. Now she thought he was brilliant. "I still can't believe the difference fourteen years can make in a person. I mean, look at you and me. It's taken the two of us centuries to grow up and change, but Richie-I mean Rick-he's a whole new person. Sometimes, I would think he was boring. This flirty little boy who sort of helicoptered around Duncan, and now he's pretty impressive. I mean he still loves motorcycles, but he is just a charmer. He's so good at carrying his own in a conversation, now."
"You know Amanda, some people just need to get out on their own and do their own thing, and then they figure out how much potential they have and go for it. I think that's what Rick did. I think he went after his dreams."
"What's your dream Emmy? That's what I want to know. I mean, do you really want to live such a boring life?" Amanda took Emmy's hands and looked at her, "I mean you know he's going to want to stay down here and run this little bike shop for as long as he can get away with it. Do you really want to be the wife of a mechanic?"
"I never said I was going to marry him Amanda."
"No, but you want to stay for him don't you?"
"Amanda, I'm not you. I still like to break into places and steal things on rare occasions, but being married to David made me appreciate the simple life. You have no idea how much fun you can have just looking at the things around you until you try. Rick does that. He actually stops to look at the setting sun every day. He likes to drive through the rain. I want someone who can look out at the world and appreciate every detail, like they would a painting."
"And you really think Rick is that person?"
"Yes, I really do."
"You have changed," Amanda let go of Emmy's hands and went over to grab a glass of wine. "There was a time, I remember, when you wouldn't have thought twice about walking away from another Immortal after only a night."
Emmy grinned. "There was a time you would never have spent three years straight acting as the agent for three stuck-up beauty queens."
Amanda lifted her lip in disgust, "Sometimes, I still don't think it's worth it."
"Yes you do. You love your job. You get too many free gifts from designers not to like your job." Emmy pointed to the diamond bracelet on Amanda's wrist.
"Okay, you're right. In some ways it sure beats stealing. I mean, come on, who would have thought you could make this much money legally for calling and setting up a few appointments."
Emmy laughed, "You are amazing."
"By the way, what on earth possessed you to work in a bookstore?"
"It's quiet, the people who come into bookstores are more intelligent on the whole, and they have excellent coffee that I get for free anytime I want it."
Amanda's eyes twinkled. "Not to mention you can buy any book you want."
"Nothing wrong with reading," Emmy replied with mock haughtiness.
"Except you can't put down anything written by Castle, Patterson, or Robb."
"Yeah, but now I get forty-five percent off on them, so it doesn't break my wallet! Only buying shoes does that now."
"That isn't even a concern for me." Amanda smiled, "Now, can we get out of this house and go soak up the beach? I haven't seen this many good looking men in a long time."
"Amanda!"
"Just because I'm taken Emmy, doesn't mean I'm dead. Besides, I'm just looking."
Emmy rolled her eyes, "I don't know why you'd want to look when you've got a guy that's as sexy as Duncan."
"Emmy!" Amanda scolded, but giggled.
"I'm just telling the truth."
"Yeah, well keep that to yourself or I might tell Rick."
Emmy shrugged, "Competition is good for them. It makes them work harder for what they want."
Just as they were about to head out the door, Amanda's phone rang. She looked at it and sighed, "Jorge, Como estas, me amor?"
"Bien, pero Amanda quiero saber por que estas en los estados unidos, cuando quiero que tus chicas va a estar en mi show?"
"Estoy aqui para relajarme antes que el dia de tu show? No es por dos mas semanas verdad?"
"Si, pero necesito empesar organizando el orden por las chicas, y no puedo hacerlo sin tuyos.
"Esta bien Jorge, me voy a regresar pronto okay?"
"En cuanto dias?"
"Como quarto o cinco, depende en los que van a regresar conmigo."
"Bueno, entonces les vi en algunos dias."
"Okay, Jorge hasta luego."
Emmy lifted an eyebrow as Amanda hung up, "What was that about?"
"Oh, Jorge is just being difficult, that's all. Let's hit the beaches."
Emmy did not move, "Are we really leaving in four or five days?" She had, after all, understood the conversation.
Amanda shrugged, "I think we should discuss that with everyone over dinner."
