Chapter 14

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Author's note: I'm contemplating the great fun that could be had with Amanda and Kenshin in the same story. Immovable object meets unstoppable force ... maybe more than one sequel here, actually.

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"This is getting to be a habit, Ken." MacLeod's Scottish burr was the first thing Kenshin heard when he opened his eyes. "I'm going to start charging you rent."

He blinked at the ceiling. "I thank you, Mister MacLeod. Ah -- Atsuko? Heather? Are they well?"

"Both are fine ... Heather's still sleeping, Atsuko and Tess went shopping."

"... Shopping." Kenshin blinked and propped himself up on one elbow. Sunlight streamed through the window in Richie's room. It was well past dawn and pushing close to noon. Shopping involving Tess and Atsuko sounded vaguely dangerous. "How long have I been out?"

"Your friend decided she was going to do something about your wardrobe and your regrettable lack of long coats. You've been out about twelve hours. Which has to be a record, Kenshin, for one of us. You really need to find some bad guys that need killing and take some heads if you're going to keep getting shot." MacLeod's voice held considerable snark.

"I don't make a habit of getting hurt if I can help it." Kenshin sat up, and gingerly probed at his now healed shoulder. "It hurts, that it does."

"Atsuko said you took a bullet for her," Mac said.

"You'd have done the same thing." Kenshin rotated his shoulder. It was stiff, but he figured that would work itself out pretty quickly. "She can die, I can't."

"She's a remarkable woman, Kenshin," Mac said.

Kenshin considered several responses before simply saying, "That I know."

"Mm." MacLeod grunted a response, then said, "There's coffee and bagels in the kitchen if you're hungry."

"I thank you."

MacLeod got up and left without further comment, to Kenshin's relief. He didn't want to discuss Atsuko with Mac largely because he had a good idea what Mac would say. And even discussing the matter was going to bring up old, buried pain.

He peered under the covers and discovered he was dressed in his own clothes -- sweat pants and a t-shirt. Someone had hosed the blood off (again) and dressed him. He wasn't sure which was worse, the thought that it might have been MacLeod and/or Richie or the likely possibility that it had been Atsuko who'd handled it. It would not be the first time that Atsuko had done so.

A clean pair of his jeans were draped over a chair and the sheath for his sword leaned against the wall. With a pang, he remembered his sword was at the bottom of the harbor.

He padded barefoot into the kitchen, where Mac was sipping a cup of coffee.

"Oh, I have something for you," MacLeod reached down beside the kitchen table.

Kenshin saw a flash of steel and leather and put a hand up, reflexively, to catch the sheathed blade.

"Until you get your sword back, at least you'll have something to fight with," MacLeod said, the snark back in his voice.

"Mac, I do not wish to fight with an edged weapon." Kenshin glanced at what he'd caught. It was heavy, and the sheath was of a fairly poor quality -- rough leather, and old without being antique. The sheath was attached to a shoulder harness of slightly cracked and dry leather.

"So use that thing. Mind, a baseball bat may work just as well, but a baseball bat is harder to hide under a coat." Yeah, MacLeod was mocking him, at least a little.

After a suspicious look at MacLeod, he drew the sword out. He was scared it would be something that would make the battousai sit up and cheer. Mac's shop had quite a collection of sharp, pointy weapons.

However, to his relief, it was an iaito -- a dull practice sword. As iaito went, it wasn't badly made -- it appeared to be folded steel, though by the dents (rather than chips) in the edge, it appeared the steel was softer than it really ought to be. Given that he didn't need it to keep an edge, this was less of a drawback than excessively brittle steel would be. The hilt needed repair, but should last through at least a few battles. It didn't appear to be very old.

MacLeod sipped his coffee and didn't say anything.

Kenshin checked the balance. It was better than he expected. The iaito was heavy, however; significantly heavier than his sakabatou. And the sheath was crudely made -- he could feel it grab and bind at the sword when he tried to draw it.

"I wouldn't recommend fighting in a serious Challenge with that thing," MacLeod said, quietly. "But it's better than being unarmed."

"I thank you," Kenshin said, sheathing it. He could hear the profound disapproval in Mac's voice -- Mac would have much preferred to loan him something razor sharp and deadly, he was sure. However, Mac was also respecting his choice of weapon and presumably through his antique-dealer connections had found him something on short notice that he would use. "How deep do you think the water is there?"

"Forty, fifty feet. I've already called a salvage company for you. They can send a diver down Wednesday."

It was Monday. He sighed, shrugged into the harness, then adjusted the buckles. "Thank you, Mister MacLeod. You've done too much."

He paused, dim memories of the night before surfacing. "Soujiro Seta was in your car last night, was he not?"

"I'm surprised you even remembered that. You were pretty out of it." MacLeod paused, then said, "You most likely owe your niece's life to him. I wouldn't have reached her in time; he dove off the pier and kept her afloat. Her hands and feet were tied. She would have drowned."

Kenshin said, "He's Challenged you, has he not?"

He half expected MacLeod to deny it. But MacLeod simply sipped his coffee and shrugged.

"You don't have to face him." Kenshin protested. There has to be another way. MacLeod could die in this fight!

"He threatened Richie and Tessa." A bit of anger touched MacLeod's words. "He's killed hundreds of us, Kenshin. I know that for a fact."

"What, exactly, did he say?" Kenshin asked, knowing his eyes were glinting with amber.

"He said -- he said if I didn't kill him, people I considered friends might die."

Kenshin considered that. It could be taken two ways -- a general observation, or a specific threat. "Obviously, he's trying to provoke you into a fight. Are you sure he was threatening them and not just talking about killing other Immortals? You're well known, and you do have many friends that he might slay."

"Plus those he has already slain," MacLeod said, darkly.

"Yet he jumped in after Heather, he did," Kenshin said, folding his arms and regarding MacLeod levelly. "I'm honestly not sure what to think, Mac."

"Yeah. You're right, that doesn't make sense. Kenshin, I've got a friend I want to talk to about Soujiro. Ah -- by the way, there's something I've been meaning to mention to you." MacLeod sighed. "There's this group that keeps an eye on us ..."

"Oh, Watchers." Kenshin said, promptly. And he watched MacLeod's eyebrows go straight up with some amusement and surprise. "This one knows all about Watchers, that I do."

"You're not in their records," MacLeod said, after a moment of that startled regard.

"No, that I am not," Kenshin agreed. He contemplated telling MacLeod that story, but decided it was too long and would be best kept for another day. Then he realized this statement meant MacLeod had access to their records. "How do you know about the Watchers?"

"Ah -- that's quite the long story. We're going to have swap tales some night." MacLeod poured himself another cup of coffee then sat down on a corner of the kitchen table. "The short version is that Joe Dawson's my Watcher and we're," he hesitated for a moment, "I guess you could say we're friends."

"And you want me to meet this Watcher." Kenshin folded his arms, frowned, and said, "Sorry, Mac, I'd rather not have spies tagging around after me constantly. Not so much for my own sake, but because it puts my family at risk. And, possibly, the spies as well."

"Ah ..." MacLeod looked sharply away, chewed on his lip for a moment, then said, "Joe already knows."

"I thought you said I'm not in their records," Kenshin said, with a sharp pang of worry.

"Ah, about that ..." MacLeod still wouldn't meet Kenshin's gaze.

This is MacLeod acting like a little boy who screwed up, Kenshin thought, with a mixture of amusement and vexed consternation. "You told him about me?"

"Not deliberately!" MacLeod protested, throwing his hands in the air. "He guessed!"

Kenshin ran both hands through his long bangs, pulling them back. He was annoyed enough to feel like pulling his hair out. He had tactics for dealing with Watchers and convincing them he was mortal but they weren't likely to work if the Watchers had independent confirmation of his Immortal-ness from Mac. "His name is Joe?"

"Yeah."

"Can you trust him?"

"Dawson? Yeah. His people? No." MacLeod shrugged. "We can ask him to keep quiet about you. He might."

"Or might not." Kenshin fixed MacLeod with a glare for a moment. MacLeod had the good grace to look abashed.

The strong buzz of another Immortal washed over them at that point, putting an end to the conversation. Mac stood up, and said, "Soujiro, I suspect."

They headed for the front door, and determined that it was Soujiro -- the bells on the shop's front door jingled as he entered. He stood, looking around, a calm smile on his face.

"What do you want?" MacLeod said, brusquely. He'd grabbed his sword on the way to the door.

Soujiro grinned broadly. "Why MacLeod, one would think that I hadn't been a hero last night."

"Why'd you do it, Soujiro?" MacLeod said, "Are you trying to impress me? Playing some very odd game? Did you set us up?"

Soujiro turned his attention to Kenshin, smile still on his face. "Is your friend always this cynical?"

"You might answer his questions, please," Kenshin said, voice deceptively mild.

Soujiro glanced at Kenshin, who was regarding him with hard, cold eyes. He shrugged, "I just wanted to see how the girl was doing."

"Heather's fine!" Kenshin said, voice no longer mild and meek. He snapped those words out with cold aggression.

Soujiro's grin didn't fade at all. "I saved her life. I just wanted to follow up, make sure she's okay. You understand."

"Stay away from her, Seta," Kenshin growled. "She's got enough troubles without being involved with one of us, that she does."

Soujiro held his hands up, defensively. "Trust me, Kenshin. I'm not interested in her like you seem to think. She's really not my type. But I wanted to make sure she was okay. She said she'd had some rough times lately."

"Your concern is noted," MacLeod said. "Why don't you leave now?"

"Uncle Kenshin!"

Kenshin turned around at the cry ; Heather stood on the stairs, grinning. She hurried down the stairs and said, "You're okay!"

"Heather, stay there," Kenshin said, as MacLeod flung an arm up to prevent her from getting between them and Soujiro. His sword had vanished; not for the first time, Kenshin wished he could master that skill without taking a few heads.

"It's really true, then," she regarded Kenshin with wide eyes. "You can't be hurt."

"Oh, he can be hurt," MacLeod said, giving her a dark look.

"But not permanently!" She cried, hugging Kenshin despite his best efforts to keep his sword arm free. She seemed completely oblivious to the iaito. He couldn't even see Soujiro over her shoulder; his nose was even with her collarbone and her hair obscured his view.

"Heather, I'm glad you're okay too, that I am," Kenshin returned her hug briefly and then managed to extricate himself.

"In the future," Soujiro said, voice tone holding just a hint of sarcasm, "You might chose to associate with better friends, little one. The ones you were with are not nice people."

Kenshin fully expected Heather to snap something rude back at Soujiro for that. But she was quiet, for a moment, meeting the man's eyes levelly. "I know. Thank you for saving my life."

Soujiro inclined his head in a brief, short bow. "I'm not a monster. I could not let a girl simply drown."

"So you've seen she's well and you can go now, that you can," Kenshin said, without any trace of a smile on his face.

"Can't he come in for a bit?" Heather said, a whine in her voice.

Soujiro glanced from Heather, to Kenshin -- whose eyes were flatly threatening -- and then to MacLeod, who had his arms folded, one hand inside his coat, and a certain tension in his stance that promised rapid violence if pushed. "It's perhaps best that I go, Heather."

"Oh, stay. Kenshin's just being an ogre. He swore an oath to protect my ancestor's descendents years ago and he gets all growly and protective anytime a cute guy is even in the same room with me." She patted Kenshin on the arm.

"I'm not sure he's big enough to be an ogre," That came from MacLeod, who now had a bit of a smile playing at his lips -- probably because Soujiro's grin was slipping off his face. Soujiro was looking at Heather with something that was approaching alarm. MacLeod continued, "A dwarf, maybe, though I'm not sure he died old enough to grow an appropriate beard."

"Mac-san!" Kenshin's glare aimed at MacLeod was almost as intense as the one he'd been sending Soujiro's way. Mac grinned back at him.

Soujiro held his hands up, and said, "I just wanted to make sure the girl was okay. I'll be going now."

"Stay ..." Heather said

At the same time, MacLeod said, "Yeah, you run along now."

"They're right. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I should go." Soujiro inclined his head gracefully in Heather's direction and then spun around and fled.

Kenshin muttered something under his breath in Japanese that MacLeod obviously didn't catch -- Mac gave him a puzzled look -- but which caused Heather to spin around and snap, "Oh, you're one to talk."

"Talk about what?" Kenshin retorted, with a little heat in his words. Flirting with Soujiro was just too much. Contrary to popular rumor, he did actually have a breaking point, and Heather had just reached it.

"You! You talk to me about love and waiting? You have no fucking clue." Heather pointed a finger at him, voice hitting a strident, angry note. "If I listened to you, I'd be a bachelor for seventy years!"

"Bachelorette," MacLeod offered a correction to the term. His Scottish brogue was thicker when he said, "If you were a girl, you'd be a bachelorette."

Kenshin ignored him and Heather's look was positively deadly.

With a huff, she stalked back up the stairs. Kenshin sighed, counted to ten twice, forced his temper under control, and then said mildly, "Maa, maa. What a mess this is."

"I don't envy you, Ken," MacLeod said, "You've got your hands full with that one."