1988

Methos turned as he felt that oh too familiar and ever pesky warning alarm going off inside his own head. There was another Immortal nearby. Challenges out in the open hadn't been an issue for quite a while, but he should've known it was too good to last.

He looked around, he didn't see anyone, Immortal or otherwise, small favors indeed. Oh well he decided as he reached into his coat and took out his Ivanhoe, might as well face this and get it over with. He was lucky in that whoever it was, they were both pretty well concealed from plain sight; irony, a cemetery just 50 yards away, vacant too at this time of the day, but somehow he doubted he could reach it in time.

He pressed his weight against the trunk of a large tree and considered his options, and also held his breath and listened. He could hear another person breathing nearby, and also heard the footsteps crunching on the dry grass and dead leaves leftover from last winter. Closer, closer…he sucked in a breath and jumped out from behind the tree with his sword drawn, at the same time the other Immortal also showed himself.

"Methos."

"Kronos."

Methos could feel his eyes standing wide open in shock at the sight of his brother, who he hadn't seen or had anything to do with in over a hundred years. In that instant he was too shocked to bring himself to do anything else.

Kronos recovered from the shock quicker and lowered his sword, "It's been a while, Brother."

"Some might argue not long enough," Methos replied as he lowered his Ivanhoe in like.

"Ah, but you of course know better, don't you, Methos?" Kronos asked as he put his sword away.

Methos' only response was a condescending and cynical smirk, one he wore well and quite often depending on what kind of people he dealt with.

"So what've you been up…" Kronos cut his question short and shook his head and sounded disappointed, "Oh…you've gone and gotten married again, haven't you?"

"How'd you know?" Methos asked.

"I could always tell, Methos," Kronos answered, a bit condescendingly himself, "You know that."

"So I do, or did," Methos concurred.

"Why, Brother, why do you continue to do these things?" Kronos asked him.

"What is it you always used to say?" Methos asked as he leaned against the large trunk of a tree, "Used to be a time I'd bounce right up asking for more…"

"A glutton for punishment, you always were."

"Thanks for noticing," Methos remarked.

Kronos shook his head in a 'What am I going to do with you?' manner and asked, "So tell me about the little wretch you picked this time."

"Well…" Methos inhaled, "She's Immortal."

Kronos cocked his head at that and commented, "My compliments, Brother, you're finally starting to learn."

Methos pointed towards the cemetery, "You mind if we move our conversation someplace more private?"

Kronos merely shrugged and followed his brother past the wrought iron gates.

"Tell me, Brother," he said, "Have you had any contact with Silas recently?"

Methos smirked like he swallowed a canary and said, "I have with Caspian."

"Oh really? What's he up to these days?" Kronos wanted to know.

Now Methos looked like the canary was fighting to break out, "He got married too."

"Caspian?" Kronos repeated in disbelief, then snorted, "Guess hell froze over after all."

"Also to an Immortal," Methos added.

Kronos looked at his brother in awe, "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Well," Methos confessed, "To be honest, it wasn't of his own decision."

"I might've known you'd be involved," Kronos said, and asked almost accusingly, "What did you do?"

Almost boasting, Methos answered, "Got the both of them good and drunk and arranged a whole little ceremony at some cheap hotel, and got the hell out of there before either of them could come to their senses."

Kronos looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh, he just about collapsed on the ground but instead sat down on one of the tombstones and told Methos, "He is going to kill you the next time he finds you, and this time he's going to mean it. So what's this woman you got him married to?"

"She used to be a prosecuting attorney," Methos answered as he sat down across from his brother.

"Now there's a match made in hell," Kronos commented, "And incidentally how did you find out about them?"

"I have my ways," Methos said, "And what about you, brother? What have you been up to since we last saw each other?"

"You mean the whole century or just recently?" Kronos asked.

"Let's start with the last half of the century and work our way back," Methos said, "How about it?"

Kronos choked on a small laugh and he looked at Methos and admitted, "Well actually, brother…I got married again myself."

"Recently?" Methos asked.

"About 30 years ago."

"To what?" Methos asked.

Now Kronos' whole body was vibrating on a chuckle as he answered, "An Immortal woman."

"Now this is just getting weird," Methos said, "And you always rode my case about getting married."

"To mortals, brother, mortal women, there's a difference."

"Alright, so it's your turn, tell me about the woman you married," Methos wanted to know.

"There's not much to tell," Kronos told him, "She wasn't Immortal yet when we met, that came after."

"And how long after did you two get married?" Methos asked.

"About three years," Kronos answered.

"Naturally that wouldn't make much difference where you were concerned," Methos said, "I think I'd like to meet your wife."

"Yes, I'd just bet you would," Kronos replied, "And your own?"

"I don't know she'd like to meet you," Methos said, "But she has made inquiries over the years."

"How long have you two been married?" Kronos asked.

"Little over 12 years now," Methos said, "But it's certainly been an interesting time. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If I did, I'd have to kill myself," Kronos remarked.

Methos half scowled at his brother and responded, "We need to get in contact with the others and get together, I have a sneaking suspicion that Silas is not far behind the rest of us."

"You got any idea where they are?" Kronos asked.

Methos thought about it for a minute and said, "I can find out."

First the white undershirt, then the white dress shirt, albeit with the sleeves unceremoniously cut out, then the tie, which one? Torchy held up the black one, and the red striped one, in her whole career as a lawyer she possessed two at any one time. She decided the black would be too dressy for this occasion and wrapped the red one around her collar and tied it. Then the black jacket. After so many years it was such a reflex to wear a gun in to court unbeknownst to everyone, even now Torchy had to remember it wouldn't be allowed where she was going today.

Caspian stood in the doorway and watched the woman he was married to finishing dressing: black jacket, black pants, black boots, spurring the question, "Going to a funeral?"

"A parole hearing," Torchy answered.

"Close enough," he replied, "Who?"

"Phillip Ragosa," Torchy told him, "He was before you came on as my personal 'guard dog'." She turned to him and asked reluctantly, "Would you come with me to the hearing?"

That surprised him and he took a step back. "You don't mean to say you're afraid of him?"

"No," Torchy answered, and took two steps towards him and explained, "But if that board is stupid enough to say after five years he deserves to see the light of day after killing his wife to run away to Bora Bora with some 20 year old blonde bimbo, I need somebody to keep me from charging the board and killing every last member with my bare hands."

Now it made sense. "Got it," he said, "Let's go."

"Before the verdict came in, I told that guy I would be present at every single one of his parole hearings, and now I know I will," Torchy said.

"Don't get used to it," Caspian told her as they headed downstairs to the front door, "In about 10 years something's going to have to come up and you're going to have to disappear or else people are going to start getting suspicious and put the pieces together."

"I can't do that," Torchy said, "There's got to be some way around that, some way to give the illusion of aging."

"If this were Hollywood maybe," Caspian replied, "This is New York, good luck with that one."

"You know how cold it gets here in the winter," Torchy said to him as they headed out to the car, "Shouldn't that count for something? Like that cryogenic thing, the colder it is the more preserved you get?"

Caspian turned to her and pointed out, "You're the one who's spent 27 years here, how different do people look after 10 years?"

"Well there's still got to be something that can be done about it," Torchy said as she got into the car, "I intend to make good on my promise that I'll be present at every single parole hearing every last one of these scum buckets I put away ever gets."

"Proof there are fates worse than death," Caspian commented as he slammed the door after her.

It was a long drive to the prison, down long, empty, winding roads, on a dark gray morning that threatened to pour down rain. Caspian was driving the car, he glanced over at his wife who was staring blankly out the window on her side.

"You're unusually quiet," he noted.

"You know, Caspian," Torchy said, never turning around to face him, just watching the scenery pass by outside, "I'd be very tempted to say there's nothing I like about you whatsoever, but there's one thing anyway, you're honest about who you kill. In all my career all I ever had were people before me who either said 'I didn't do it' or 'I did it but I shouldn't be locked up'. I heard every excuse, 'It's not my fault, I'm poor', 'it's not my fault, I was abused', 'it's not my fault, I'm black', 'it's not my fault, I'm a woman', 'it's not my fault, I'm a racist', 'it's not my fault, I'm new in this country', 'it's not my fault, I was drunk', 'it's not my fault, I was temporarily insane', 'it's not my fault, I was demonically possessed', 'it's not my fault, I ate too much sugar', every stupid excuse you can think of, I heard them all."

"So what was this guy's excuse?" Caspian asked.

Torchy shook her head, "Didn't have one, he let his lawyer make the excuses for him, and let the yarn spin. Nobody thought we'd ever get a conviction, no body, not much of a crime scene, an acceptable amount of the victim's blood present. During closing, the defense got up and told the jury, 'Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Ragosa is entering the court right now…aha, you turned around, reasonable doubt'. So then I got up, and I marched up and down the box a couple times, and then I turned around real quick and said 'Look out, he's got a gun! …Now, how could somebody come into this room brandishing a gun, with armed court officers right at the door? But you still turned around, does that mean it's true? Now, the purpose of this sleight of hand was so the defense made sure his left hand didn't see what his right was doing…everybody in this courtroom may have turned around when he said that, but I did not because I don't believe Mrs. Ragosa is alive, and I saw that Mr. Ragosa didn't turn around either. He's on trial for his life for his wife's death, if there was any chance she was alive and could walk in here right now and clear this up, why wouldn't he of all people look?'" Torchy finally turned to look at Caspian and told him, "Jury was out five minutes…and five years he's getting a shot at parole."

"He won't get it," Caspian said.

"How can you be sure?" Torchy asked.

"Got a feeling," he answered.

"If he does, I'll break his neck," she said, and started to laugh, "He butchered his wife of 12 years so he could run off with a younger, thinner, sexier woman…and she…ran out on him once he got arrested. I mean I grew up with Helter Skelter, I expected the loyalty, the devotion, the pleading of innocence on her behalf, when we found out she ran away without him, I thought I was going to faint. He looked like somebody just shot his dog."

Caspian looked at her, then at the road ahead, and asked her casually, "Why the hell did you ever decide to take this job?"

"I liked to fight," Torchy said distantly, then she looked towards him and added, "I had a great-aunt willing to put me through law school…her husband had been a defense attorney, died young, she knew his business in and out, she already drilled me on half of what I needed to know before I attended a single class, it was practically my calling from the get-go. I probably would've joined the police force but I knew the problem wasn't getting them off the street in a bust, it's keeping them off, so that's what I did. And if I have things my way today, Mr. Ragosa is going to stay off the streets now."

Torchy hung up the telephone receiver and told the small group gathered in the empty room at the prison, "Coroner came back with a preliminary finding."

"What was it, a suicide?" Caspian asked.

She shook her head, "No little black pills…looks like Ragosa just had an honest to goodness heart attack, of course there are still the standard tests to run, it'll be a while before anything's official, but that's what he's guessing right now."

Torchy groaned as she pressed her hands against her face, then she lowered them and shook her head and said, "I come here to see that this guy doesn't have a shot at parole…they bring him in…and he collapses in the middle of the floor and drops dead from a heart attack…I don't know whether to laugh or throw up."

Caspian leaned over towards her and said in her ear, "I told you he wouldn't get paroled."

"You…" Torchy poked him in the stomach and started to say what was on her mind but remembered there were witnesses. "I guess I might as well go back home."

They walked out of the prison together, once in the car and driving back, Torchy said to Caspian, "I wouldn't put it past you to have slipped Ragosa something to make him have a heart attack."

"Who, me?" Caspian shook his head, "Too slow-acting for my taste, I prefer something quick, effective, very painful."

"I know," Torchy said, "And I know there's no way you could have done anything to that guy…I never want this guy to get out, to see the light of day again, and he drops dead of a heart attack…I should be happy, the end result's about the same, so why do I feel like we got cheated out of something?"

"You know why," Caspian told her, "You wanted to see him suffer, if they'd executed him you would've been first in the audience."

"I know," she replied, "Still thinking too much like a prosecutor."

"No, now you're actually starting to think like an Immortal," Caspian said to her.

She thought about it for a minute and concluded, "Feels about the same." She continued to look out the window and gaze out at the gray, gloomy atmosphere outside the car.

By the time they returned home, the first thing they heard as they entered the house was the phone ringing. From time to time a few of Torchy's acquaintances from her law career would call to shoot the breeze or needing help with a case, otherwise Caspian usually answered and threatened to track down whoever was calling and disembowel them.

"You get the phone," she told him, somehow just having a feeling it wasn't for her, "I'll fix us a couple strong drinks."

Torchy went into the kitchen and over to the liquor cabinet and looked for the strongest stuff they had and pulled out an aged bottle of bourbon, and decided it was good enough as it was and took it and a couple glasses back into the living room. On her side she'd hardly heard Caspian say anything, and now he just held the receiver to his ear with a virtually blank look on his face, and finally hung it up without another word.

"What was it?" she inquired.

He turned to his wife and told her, "You'll never guess."

"Uh," Torchy decided to try, "Ed McMahon and we won $100,000, right?"

He ignored her remark and answered, "My brother."

Torchy did a double take, "Are you kidding?"

He turned and glared at her and demanded to know, "Have you ever known me to have a sense of humor?"

"In your own twisted way," she responded, "Are you serious?"

"I've seldom been more serious, you twit," he told her.

Torchy all but dropped the bottle of bourbon and spun on her heel in an exaggeration of disbelief, "Of all the…hey, wait a minute! Which brother? That little son of a bitch that got us married?"

He looked at her and answered, "That's the one."

"Oh yeah?" Torchy discarded the bottle and glasses on the table and started to roll up her jacket sleeves, "What's the little worm want?"

In a dumbfounded tone, Caspian told her, "He wants to meet with us…apparently he's come in contact with the others recently and…it's been decided we should all meet up again."

"Hot damn," Torchy said, only slightly enthusiastic, "Now I finally get to meet your crazy ass family, maybe now I'll get some insight as to why you are the way you are. When're we meeting them?"

Caspian scowled at her and was tempted to shoot back with a cynical remark of his own, but instead he told her, "Next week."

Torchy took off her jacket and commented, "From the little I've seen so far, this family makes the Addams Family look like the Partridge Family, as far as barren sources of amusement go, this ought to take the cake."