-1Chapter 12
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Author's Note: I've been watching Highlander DVDs and I've realized this is actually set early season 2. I had not seen the show in so long that I'd forgotten what happened when -- I'd thought Tessa's death was the season finale. For reference, this is now officially set just before the episode "The Darkness."
Also, he knew Joe Dawson by this point, but it was before they were really friends.
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Kenshin waited until they were in his truck before asking Atsuko why she'd come to MacLeod's so early in the day. Then he simply said, "It's Heather-san, is it not?"
Atsuko sighed. "They discharged her today." By her voice tone, Atsuko didn't think this was a good thing. Kenshin expected, given Atsuko and Heather's tendency to butt heads, they had fought.
"Where is she?"
"At the apartment. I hope. I told her to stay put." Atsuko frowned. "She's a mess."
"Aa." Kenshin sighed and guided the truck out into traffic. Atsuko cranked her window down and propped an elbow on the door, stared out at the city, offered nothing more.
He figured that she didn't need to say much more; past experience let him fill in the blanks. Atsuko had been sarcastic and critical. The same candor he valued from her tended to piss Heather off greatly. Heather would have been sullen, defensive and resentful in response. He hoped Heather was still there when he got home.
"Kenshin, is MacLeod going to fight Soujiro?" Atsuko changed the subject.
"MacLeod can't defeat Souji unless he is very lucky," Kenshin said. He didn't add that he suspected MacLeod had already been challenged by Soujiro -- MacLeod hadn't said anything, but he'd asked Kenshin several pointed questions about Soujiro's fighting style. Questions, in truth, which Kenshin couldn't answer except to say that he expected Soujiro would be very good. It had been over a century since he'd last seen the man fight. MacLeod was good, but perhaps not that good.
"That didn't answer my question."
"I don't know." Kenshin responded, simply.
"'I don't know' means yes." Atsuko was entirely too astute. Journalist, he reminded himself. Good at guessing was a job requirement.
"No. 'I don't know' means ..." He hesitated, gave her a sideways look, and sighed before continuing, "MacLeod has a wife and son." Or close enough. Tessa and Mac are about as dedicated to each other as any couple I've ever seen, and Richie would have nothing if not for Mac. No family, no close friends other than Mac and Tessa that I've seen.
"You have us." Atsuko gave him a sharp look. "We need you. I hope you're not thinking of fighting a duel you can't win out of some kind of warped sense of honor."
He gave her a wry look. "I'm not intending to commit suicide, Atsuko-chan. But if it comes down to it, the families would grieve for me -- but not like Tessa and Richie would grieve for Mac."
Atsuko was silent for too long before responding, "You don't kill. Mac does. That gives Mac an advantage."
"Are you trying to talk me out of fighting Soujiro, or encourage me?" He teased, gently. He hated that silence; it bothered him to see her this worried. "I'd prefer that nobody die. But Atsuko-chan -- know that I do not fear death. Kaoru is waiting for me."
"I'm saying that MacLeod has an advantage." She repeated, to quickly. She had no humor in her voice and obviously didn't think it was funny at all. And his reassurance had done nothing to ease her mind.
When he reached a stoplight, he looked at her -- met her eyes, which were just as concerned as he'd expected. She said, bluntly, "It would kill me to lose you, Red."
"Atsuko-chan, I ..." He had no answer for that. She'd called him Red for the short period they'd dated; had quit when he'd told her only wanted to be friends. For her to call him that again meant she was probably a lot more upset than he'd guessed. "I am sorry for worrying you."
"But?" She asked, hearing the lack of denial in his voice. She doesn't miss anything at all.
"But this is something I may have to do. Atsuko -- 120 years ago I let Soujiro walk away, thinking I'd done a fine thing. He's killed perhaps hundreds of men between then and now. He's powerful, Atsuko-chan, and you don't get that powerful without a lot of murder if you're an Immortal, that you don't."
He looked away, not able to meet her eyes. Guilt swarmed up and threatened to drown him. She will grieve for me. I do not want to hurt her.
"He was a child, Ken-san. He was fourteen years old, right?"
He blinked at her. How did -- ah, journalist. I should assume she was going through old records hours after I told her his name. Birth certificates, police reports, old newspapers, old diaries. She already knows where to find most of the stuff from my Meiji day; cross-referencing Seta with me would have been easy. She probably knows more biographical data about Souji than I do now.
"That's about right. It's not like I asked him his birthday," Kenshin replied. "We only actually met a few times. And we were never on speaking terms."
"You could not have slain a child." She said that with absolute conviction. He flinched mentally at her tone of voice. She had slain a boy about the same age -- faced with a me-or-him decision, she'd chosen to pull the trigger and live. Most people would, Kenshin thought.
"Hundreds have died, that they have." He swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes still. "I killed boys younger than Soujiro, as the Battousai. I was younger, when I left Hiko and went to war."
"You're thinking of fighting him to the death, aren't you? Taking his head?"
Kenshin couldn't answer that question -- not even to himself. Instead, he said, quietly, "Would you have another suggestion?"
He hadn't meant to sound quite so bleak. She was silent again. The silence stretched on until, finally, he said, "I don't know what I'm going to do, Atsuko-chan. Just that I must do something, that I must."
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Heather was home when they arrived. So was another skinny girl with old needle tracks on her arms and a nose that had been broken at least once. Stringy blond hair -- natural blond -- hung down to the girl's shoulders. It was the sort of long hair that resulted from a neglectful lack of haircuts, not a deliberate attempt at growing it out.
"Hi Uncle Kenshin!" Heather stood up. Both girls had been watching television. She grinned at him. "They let me out!"
"Atsuko said she brought you home," Kenshin accepted her hug. She'd showered, actually smelled like soap and not body odor, and she appeared to be in a good mood. His spirits lifted abruptly. Maybe she'd just needed time to get the drugs out of her system. "Who's your friend?"
The blond was looking at him rather keenly. "Anna." Heather said. "Anna, this is my Uncle Kenshin."
"You didn't say your uncle was so young."
"He's adopted," Heather said, shrugging.
"No duh!"
"I still can't believe you came all this way to help me out," Heather said, quietly. She glanced past Kenshin at Atsuko, who had a tight-lipped frown on her face. "She came out here because you're here."
It was a deliberate -- and unnecessary -- comment. . He sighed. "Was that really required, Heather?"
"It's also not true," Atsuko said, surprisingly mildly. Kenshin had been expecting some sort of snark out of her in response to that. She met Kenshin's eyes, and added, "While Kenshin is certainly worth traveling halfway around the world for, I actually do care about you, Akane-chan."
"My name's not Akane. It's Heather."
Kenshin smiled faintly at that indignant response. "Anna, perhaps you will join us for dinner?"
Anna wrinkled her nose. "You're not going to serve raw fish or something, are you?"
"We can order pizza," Kenshin said, dryly. He exchanged another look with Atsuko. She rolled her eyes. He felt like doing the same, but good manners dictated he be polite to this unexpected guest. Atsuko had never really concerned herself with anything resembling manners, though she could be charming when it suited her purposes.
"I'm not really hungry anyway. Me'n Heather were going to go catch a movie." Anna picked up her purse from beside the couch.
"What movie?" Atsuko demanded, then added, "Maybe you should stay home, Heather -- you just got out ..."
"Batman Returns. And I'm going." Heather's tone of voice dared Atsuko to argue.
"How are you going to pay for this movie?" Atsuko asked, sharply.
Kenshin pulled his wallet out, fished out three five dollar bills, and held them up. When Heather reached for them he closed his hand around the bills, stopping her from taking them. "You have to make me a promise, that you do."
"Whatever." She balled her fists at her side.
"Heather-chan, please. I care about you. I want you to promise me you'll be back by ten PM. Sober, if you please." He said, patiently.
"I'm too old for a curfew!" She folded her arms and glared at him. Defiance showed in every line of her too-thin frame.
He regarded her levelly, eyes glinting keenly from beneath his bangs. He didn't say a word. Didn't, he figured, need to -- she was not a stupid woman, but she had a certain defiant streak that had been inadvertently cultivated by her father's tendency to criticize and yell -- and, truthfully, her mother's unwillingness to fight. One screamed, the other let her get away with everything and anything.
"Ken-san ..." There was a distinct whine in her voice. A little of the resistance drained out of her shoulders. She shuffled in place, eyed him, tried to find something to protest about. He waited, silently praying Atsuko would keep her mouth shut. He could almost feel Atsuko vibrating with the desire to say something sharp and cutting.
Heather sighed, angrily, lips pursing. "Okay. I'll be back at ten. I promise."
"Sober, Heather-chan."
"Yes, Uncle Kenshin." She stared at her shoes.
He turned his violet eyes on Anna and fixed her with a glare that held just a hint of amber. She took a step back, and said with some concern, "Did you really cut Shark's hand off?"
So her friends have been talking. I think that's all to the best.
"No. I simply broke his fingers because he tried to pull a gun on me." His expression was dangerous.
"With a sword." Anna glanced at the door. Clearly, she was suddenly unsettled by him. He knew he hadn't looked like much of a threat until he let the Battousai peek out at her.
"Yes." Kenshin let the single syllable float in the air like a promise.
Anna swallowed hard and said in a voice that cracked a bit, "I've been clean for three weeks. OD'd. Figured I'd had enough. I'm trying to make a better life for myself. I'll see she stays out of trouble 'cause I'm not sure I could resist if she got high."
"That is good, it is." He blinked, relaxed, and so did she.
She frowned at him as if wondering why he was suddenly a scary bastard she didn't want to cross instead of a five-foot-tall weakling. She glanced at Heather. Said firmly, "We're just going to a movie. That's it."
"Aa. Have fun, then." He handed the money to Heather. "Remember you've an appointment at the clinic tomorrow morning at eight AM."
"Yes, Uncle Kenshin."
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Kenshin liked the balcony. It had an excellent view, and nobody could sneak up on him since it was on the fourth floor. It was a good place to think.
The door slid open and Atsuko stepped out. She had a blanket in her hands. "If you're going to sleep out here ..."
"Thank you," he said, quietly, wrapping the thick fabric around his shoulders. He didn't intend to sleep, but the air was cool and the blanket warm.
"She's not back yet." Atsuko worried.
"It's only 9:30."
"Are you sure this is wise?"
"No." Kenshin admitted. "I need to know if I can trust her at all, if she'll even try to keep her word. It will affect how I handle her in the future."
"What if she goes and gets high and overdoses?" Atsuko shook her head in disbelief. "I don't like that Anna girl."
"Anna's parents may say the same thing about Heather, that they may." Kenshin said, with calm he didn't feel. Though his own judgment said that Anna might actually be a good influence on Heather, at least for the moment, he somehow had a bad feeling.
"I wish you'd gone after her." Atsuko sighed.
"Do you know how difficult it is to tail someone when they know what you look like?" Kenshin gave her a dark look. "I'm not a ninja. If she'd seen me following her, I'd lose any trust she has in me, that I would."
"If she wants to be trusted she needs to earn it," Atsuko said, with considerable annoyance.
Atsuko started to sit down next to him, but suddenly he sprang to his feet. The buzz of another Immortal had washed over him like a wave. Powerful. Close.
"Trouble?" Atsuko said, as Kenshin brushed past her into the apartment.
"Perhaps. It's MacLeod or Soujiro." Or somebody else just as powerful. Now that is a complication I do not need. He grabbed his sword and sheath from the rack by just inside his bedroom door, slung it over his back, and shrugged into his coat. "Are you coming with me?"
He'd tried, once, to forbid Atsuko from tagging along after him in instances like this. He'd learned the hard way that it was better to have her openly accompanying him. That way, at least he knew where she was. Anyway, she could fight.
Outside, the buzz was stronger. Soujiro, he decided. If MacLeod wanted to talk, he'd have either called my cel phone or he'd be walking up to my apartment and we'd have met him in the hall or stairwell. Soujiro likely saw my truck and is lurking in the shadows.
"Kenshin!" The voice was unexpected as they stepped out of the stairwell. Not Immortal, but rather, Anna. She hurried across the apartment building's parking lot. There was alarm in the way she moved and in her voice. "Kenshin!"
"What's wrong?" Kenshin said, breaking into a run and meeting her halfway. She was breathing hard and sweat stuck her bangs to her forehead.
"Heather ..." She gasped, bending over, hands on her knees, sides heaving. She'd clearly run a long way.
"I knew it!" Atsuko's voice angry. "Kenshin, I knew it!"
"What happened?" Kenshin demanded.
"Shark ... Shark's brother and his buddies ... they grabbed Heather ..."
"He had a brother?" Kenshin said, voice nearly a hiss of disbelief. That was a complication he hadn't considered. Shark wasn't much of a threat, but he could easily see a ticked off sibling being real trouble.
"Yeah. He's a b-bad news and he's pissed about what you did to Shark." She looked up through her hair at him, tried to stand up, then sank to her knees. Concerned, Kenshin crouched.
"D-don't worry about me. Bowie's going to kill her."
"Where?" Kenshin said. His eyes glinted dangerously.
"They were headed for the w-waterfront ... said something about throwing her off the p-pier. Probably the one off of Fifth Street; it's where they always dump the bodies ..."
"Thank you." Kenshin ran for his truck with Atsuko hot on his heels. They screeched out of the parking lot; and Kenshin violated half a dozen traffic laws before they reached the next light. He was a half mile away before he remembered about the other Immortal. Ah, well, if Souji wanted to talk to him -- or challenge him -- Souji could find him later.
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MacLeod was half asleep, idly running his fingers through Tessa's hair, when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock: ten PM.
"Mmph." Tessa said. It might have been protest. She lifted her head, "Who's that?"
It was a loaded question, but Mac shook his head and reassured her, "Not one of us."
He grabbed his pajama bottoms off the floor and padded barefoot through the shop to the door, just as the doorbell rang again. "Coming!"
Somehow, he was not surprised to see Dawson at the door. Joe leaned on his cane and got right to the point, "Hey, MacLeod. Richie's red-haired buddy -- is he one of you? I saw them together a few days ago."
MacLeod said, with disgust, "Why would I tell you?"
"Because," Joe limped past him into the shop, "He's in trouble. There's one bad Immortal after him. I thought I'd tell you; the little guy doesn't look like he can defend himself."
MacLeod scratched his cheek; his jaw was still sore from the blow that Kenshin had given him earlier in the day. "Kenshin would surprise you, I think. I pity anyone who tries to take his head."
"So he is ...?"
"Maybe I'm not inclined to tell you." MacLeod said, swearing mentally. Joe would, correctly, assume that Kenshin was Immortal. He'd give him a heads up about the Watchers tomorrow. He paused, then added, "Trouble?"
"Do you know about Soujiro Seta?"
Oh. So that was what this was about.
"We've met. Kenshin says he's bad news." MacLeod said, added, then after a moment's consideration, he added, "The red-haired guy is Kenshin Himura. And he's a friend and I'll have your head if anything happens to him because of the Watchers. He's one of the good guys, Joe.."
"Yeah. Well. If you want to keep your friend, you might warn him that Soujiro Seta's been watching his apartment." Joe didn't blink at the threat. "He was in a car in a parking garage across the road all day, then he drove over to Kenshin's apartment's parking lot this evening. Kenshin and his girlfriend took off in a real hurry a few moments later; I think he was fleeing the area."
"Soujiro's out for my head. I'm not sure what he wants with Kenshin. Maybe the same; maybe something else. They've got some history." MacLeod shrugged. He paused, then added, "Kenshin wouldn't run from Soujiro. Something else must have happened. Soujiro seems to respect him."
"If Soujiro respects him, that's new, because he simply kills every other Immortal he comes across." Joe shook his head. "You should see his file, Mac. He's about a hundred and thirty one years old and he's averaged four or five heads a year for the last hundred and ten years. To our knowledge, he's never been beaten in a Challenge."
"Yeah, he's on my short list of heads to hunt," MacLeod said, dryly. "Connor said something similar when I called him yesterday afternoon. What do you know about him?"
"Soujiro's from Meiji Japan -- he was trained by a ronin named Shishio. He fights in several styles, but he's very good at battojutsu. We've been watching him for years, and he's bad news -- absolutely no conscience when it comes to killing other Immortals. And Soujiro is extremely skilled and a natural athlete, Mac. I've seen a video -- we had to analyze it frame by frame to see some of his moves, he's that fast."
"That fits with what I've seen." MacLeod sighed. Then he added, with a bit of a grin, because he knew something Joe didn't, "By the way, he has been beaten."
"While he was still mortal, yes, once that I'm aware of." Joe went silent, suddenly. He regarded MacLeod with apparent dawning realization. "Kenshin Himura?"
MacLeod pointed a finger at him in a "you got it" gesture.
"Surely not!" Joe was silent a moment longer; MacLeod could practically hear the gears turning in Joe's head as he tried to remember what was, in truth, some relatively obscure history. However, the man was at least as much of a history geek as MacLeod himself, and they shared an interest in historic swordsmen. And Kenshin's rather distinctive appearance of red hair and a scarred cheek had certainly been well recorded and would have been doubly notable because there just weren't that many red-haired samurai in Japanese history. Finally, somewhat hesitantly, Joe said, "Hitokiri Battousai was one of you?"
MacLeod shrugged and didn't say anything.
"Huh. Figures." Joe eyed him sideways for a minute, obviously skeptical.
MacLeod said, as much grace as he could muster, "Thank you for letting me know about Kenshin. I'll call him and find out if he needs any help."
"Not a problem. I figured you might want to know." Joe's smile was a bit sad and forced.
His people killed Darius. He's trying to make up for it, in some small way, MacLeod realized, with a familiar twist of pain at the memory of Darius's death. Not that he ever can. But he does care.
After Joe was gone, MacLeod called Kenshin. It wasn't Kenshin who answered, however, it was Atsuko. "Hello?"
"It's Mac. Atsuko, what's going on? A friend of mine seems to think you guys might be in trouble."
"Heather." One word, and a world of explanation. Her odd accent was notably stronger; she'd obviously learned English somewhere other than North America or Europe but she normally didn't sound quite so exotic. She added, "Apparently, Shark has family. They kidnapped her, probably for revenge."
Concerned, he said, "Need a hand?"
"We're fine, Mister MacLeod, that we are," That was Kenshin, who had apparently claimed the phone from Atsuko.
He heard several unidentifiable noises, and then Kenshin said something indignant in Japanese that he didn't quite catch followed by, "Oro! Atsuko-chan!"
"Mac, we're heading down to the waterfront. The Fifth Street pier." Atsuko said. MacLeod wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten the phone back, but he could hear Kenshin muttering indignantly in the background. She added, "Kenshin's having a fit of machismo or something but if you want to meet us there, that'd be a good thing."
"Be there in ten minutes."
"Thanks, Mac-san."
As he hung up the phone, in the background, he heard Kenshin say, "Soujiro's following us."
Well, that explained why Kenshin didn't want his help. The little samurai had made it clear that he thought MacLeod should not fight Soujiro. He was worried about MacLeod's head. MacLeod thought, grimly, that made two of them worried about MacLeod's head. Joe's visit had not been reassuring.
Kenshin, MacLeod thought, is getting my help whether he likes it or not. I'll deal with Soujiro when and if I have to.
He still hadn't decided if he was going to take Soujiro up on his challenge. But Joe's words -- three or four Immortals a year for over a century -- well, someone needed to do it. And I don't think it's going to be a certain red-haired samurai. As Kenshin would say, that I do not.