Thank you all who have shown interest in this story. I'm sorry it took so long to update.
A very special thank you to my beta, StrangeVisitor, for all her help with this story. I really appreciate it!
Title: Dead Reckonings
Story: NCIS crossover with Highlander, the Series
Chapter 3 of ?
Rating: T/ PG (gen)
Set in early season 5
Characters- 3rd chapter: Ziva, McGee, DiNozzo, Gibbs, Ducky, Abby and OMCs
Pairings: none
Beta: StrangeVisitor
Summary: Two NCIS team members travel to an isolated cabin to pursue a lead and their lives are changed forever.
Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda
Chapter 3 – Unpleasant Surprises
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
McGee bolted upright in bed, his heart hammering in his chest. The remnants of the nightmare still clouded his mind. Looking down he expected to see the wounds he could still almost feel, but his grey T-shirt was dampened by sweat, not blood.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
Wait a minute…that's-. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 6:01 AM. Aw, crap…
He stumbled out of bed out into the hallway towards the apartment door. Just before he reached it, he heard a scuffling sound followed by a yelp. He opened the door and was met with a strange sight: a man that he recognized as his neighbor was pinned against the opposite wall by Ziva, who was holding a knife to the man's throat. His terrified eyes turned toward McGee and he sputtered "Dude, cops! NOW!"
"Ziva," said McGee, "let him go." Her stance relaxed slightly but she remained in place.
"This man assaulted me. I was defending myself."
"Defending yourself!" the man shouted, his gaze flicking to Ziva before returning to McGee. "I caught her trying to break into your apartment. Crazy bitch—." He immediately fell silent as Ziva pressed the knife closer.
"It's okay, we, uh…we work together." His neighbor gave him an incredulous look. McGee shrugged sheepishly.
"I don't even want to know, man. Now can you…can you call her off?" He flinched as Ziva leaned in close and glared at him. She remained in place for several moments before releasing her grip on the man and stepping back. He slumped in obvious relief before backing down the hallway away from them. When he reached his apartment he darted inside and slammed the door.
"I cannot believe he called me a 'crazy bitch'," muttered Ziva as she slipped her knife into her belt and stepped into the apartment. McGee decided to let that one slide as he followed her inside and shut the door.
"Were you really trying to break into my apartment?"
"Yes. When you did not answer my knock, I was concerned." She took in his appearance. "What happened?"
"I, uh, overslept."
"You do not look like you slept very much at all. More nightmares?"
"Same one," he confessed. "I just keep seeing-."
"Perhaps if we find out what really happened, it will help," she replied in a gentle voice, before switching to a more authoritative tone. "Which means we need to get to work, so you need to go get ready. Five minutes, McGee. Go."
"Ziva, I-."
"Go!"
McGee hurried to the bathroom and showered as quickly as possible. After drying off and getting mostly dressed, he checked his face in the mirror to see if he could get away without shaving. One look told him he wouldn't be so lucky. He smoothed on a layer of shaving cream before applying the razor to his face, drawing it down his cheeks and neck as fast as he dared. He had almost finished when he felt the sharp sting of the razor cutting into his flesh and to his dismay blood started to well up from the cut almost immediately.
"Damn it," he muttered as he reached for a tissue. He wiped away the blood, but before he could put pressure on the cut, a small arc of blue lightning crossed the gap and the wound healed before his eyes.
"What in the hell?" he gasped and ran his fingers over the area where the cut had been. He stared into the mirror, waiting for the wound to reappear. He was sure the healing had been his imagination, but his skin remained whole, and cold chill settled in his stomach.
What's happening to me?
"McGee!" Ziva called from the kitchen. "Hurry up!" Startled, McGee wiped the remnants of the cream from his face, pulled on his dress shirt and after one final look, he hurried to join Ziva.
Ziva guided her car to a stop at the light and glanced at her passenger. He had been unusually quiet for the duration of the ride and his silence raised her concern.
"McGee," she said, startling him. "What is wrong?"
"I, uh…nothing."
"You are lying to me again. What is it? Has something else happened?" She allowed some of her worry to show. She had not completely recovered from the panic she had felt earlier while breaking into his apartment, unsure what she would find once inside.
"I, uh…I think I've started to…hallucinate."
"Hallucinate? Why?" She turned to face him just before the blare of horns behind her indicated the light had changed. She guided the car forward before returning her attention to McGee.
"I cut…I thought I cut myself shaving, but…"
"But what?"
"It healed. I saw it heal, and there was this, I don't know, static discharge, like blue lightning, over the cut as it closed up." He glanced up at her, embarrassment clear in his expression. "Crazy, huh?"
Ziva stared at him, speechless, before returning her attention to the road. Her mind raced, wondering what could account for what McGee had seen. As she approached another red light she decided to test a theory that had arisen in her mind.
"Give me your hand," she said as soon as she brought the car to a halt. McGee reluctantly complied as she removed her knife from her belt and quickly jabbed one of his fingers.
"OW! What the hell-?"
"Look," she said as she pulled out a tissue and wiped away the blood. A flash of blue crossed the wound as it closed. McGee stared at his finger, shock and horror crossing his face before he met Ziva's gaze.
"I…"
"Well, one thing is for certain: you were not hallucinating."
McGee let out a strangled laugh. "That doesn't really make me feel any better."
A blast of a horn behind then indicated the light had changed again, and she returned her attention to her driving. She heard McGee mutter "suffer no injury" and looked over to see him inspecting his finger tip as if he expected something else to happen. She tried to think of something to which he could relate as an explanation for what they had seen.
"Maybe it is a…mutation. Something has changed to speed up the healing process."
"Great," he growled. "Either I'm cursed, or I'm one of the X-men." He looked over at her and blushed. "I'm sorry, Ziva. I…I know you're trying to help, and I'm-."
"Being snitchy?" She was rewarded with the first genuine, albeit weak, smile she had seen from him since yesterday. "Do not worry about it."
He lapsed into silence again and did not speak again until they had reached the gate to the Navy Yard.
"You know," McGee said softly, "a lot of myths and legends are based on facts. So maybe there is some…medical reason for all of this? I mean, I've never heard of anything like this, but maybe…"
"Ducky has?"
McGee nodded. "So now I just have to figure out how to ask him about it without making him suspicious."
"Tell him it is research. You know, for your next book."
"I'll have to be careful not to let Tony hear that. He told me he'd kill me if I ever thought about writing another book…which is probably the least of my problems at the moment."
McGee was relieved to find the bullpen empty when he and Ziva exited the elevator. He really wasn't ready to deal with DiNozzo just yet. After checking his email, he started his report on the trip to Keane's cabin, struggling with the words as he typed up a highly edited version of events. He had almost finished when DiNozzo interrupted him.
"Morning, Probie! How was your trip to the Boondocks?"
"Uneventful," replied Ziva before McGee could respond. "The man was not at home, and it did not look like he would be returning any time soon. It appears that Corley sent us on a wild duck chase."
"Goose chase, Ziva. And that's too bad. While you two were taking in the fall foliage, we were getting some real work done."
He started to pull information up on the plasma, and Ziva and McGee walked over to stand in front of the screen so they could see what he had discovered. The first picture was of their suspect. "Abby thought the bomb construction looked too professional to fit Corley's story, so she did some checking and found that it fit the design of some IRA bombs. We ran Corley's prints through Interpol and this is what popped up." A much younger image of their suspect filled the screen. "Corley's real name is Cormac Flynn, a former member of the Irish Republican Army, and one of their top bomb makers. After the cease fire, he managed to drop off the radar, only to pop back up here almost ten years later."
"And we're going to find out why this bastard decided to kill a Marine," declared Gibbs as he strode into the bullpen. "Ziva, you go down to autopsy to see if Ducky has anything to add to the report, McGee—."
"I can go get the information from Ducky, Boss." He fidgeted slightly when all three of his teammates turned to stare at him. "That is, uh, if Ziva doesn't mind. I…need to ask Ducky…something, so I figured I could do both and save a trip."
Gibbs stared at him for a minute and McGee barely managed to remain calm under that intense gaze. "Well, what are you waiting for, McGee? Go." He ignored DiNozzo's questioning expression and hurried away as Gibbs barked orders to Ziva and Tony. He only managed to relax slightly as the elevators doors closed behind him.
As he entered the autopsy suite, he was greeted by a cheerful voice.
"Timothy! This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you down here so bright and early?"
Swallowing his nervousness, McGee managed to sound much calmer than he felt. "Gibbs needs any additional information on the bombing case that you can give him, Ducky. They're bringing the suspect back in for further interrogation."
"I see. Well, I regret to admit that I have not yet found anything germane to that case, but I will let Jethro know as soon as I do have something. Is there anything else?"
"Uh, yes, I…I'm doing, well some research, and-."
"For another book?" asked Ducky, sounding slightly bemused.
"Well, yes, but not in the same series," McGee rushed to add.
Ducky chuckled. "Very well, Timothy. What do you need to know?"
"I was wondering if there would be some…legitimate medical condition where someone would…appear dead but not actually be dead?"
Ducky stared at the younger man, obviously surprised. He pondered a moment before giving an answer.
"Well, if the person in question were exposed to cold for a long enough period of time their body would start to shut down to preserve vital functions, such as in the case we had a few months ago: the young man found in the snow bank, do you remember?"
"I do, but what if the body, er, person was not exposed to cold? Could there be another reason, a specific reason, why someone would…revive? Even if they really looked dead?"
"Nothing specific comes to mind…" Suddenly, Ducky gave McGee a wicked grin. "Unless, of course, you're referring to zombiis."
"I'm not-." McGee managed to stop himself before he blurted out a statement that really would have Ducky questioning his sanity. "I'm not talking about something supernatural, Ducky."
"Neither am I, my dear boy. Zombiis, or at least the kind to which I am referring, are quite real. The term 'zombii' is associated with the practice of voodoo, particularly in Haiti. Practitioners believe that a voodoo priest, or bokor, has the ability to place evil doers in a state of utter limbo, where they are stripped of their humanity. The most famous documented case of a real zombii was Clairvius Narcisse, who was reported dead and buried in 1962 and was found alive in 1980. He claimed to have been under the power of the bokor for years until his death released the bokor's zombiis from their enslavement."
McGee attempted to interrupt, but Ducky was clearly on a roll and he decided to let the eccentric medical examiner continue his tale.
"There have been several studies on the phenomenon which have led to claims that a living person can be turned into a zombii by the introduction of two special powders into the bloodstream, usually through a wound. The first, coup de poudre, is believed to include a toxin very similar to tetrodotoxin, a powerful and frequently fatal neurotoxin found in the flesh of the pufferfish. This poison lowers the victim's metabolic rate until they appear dead. The second powder consists of natural hallucinogens such as datura, also known as the 'zombie cucumber'. The effect is described as an initial state of death-like suspended animation followed by re-awakening. The 'zombii', poor soul, although appearing to be deceased, would be fully aware of what was happening to them, and would often be awake for their own internment."
"Don't bury me, I'm not dead!"
McGee spun around to see Tony grinning at him expectantly. He had been so focused on Ducky's story that he hadn't even heard the senior agent approach.
When McGee didn't respond to his quote, an annoyed and disappointed look crossed the older agent's face. "The Serpent and the Rainbow…? Starred Bill Pullman, directed by Wes Craven? No?"
McGee shook his head, worrying more about what Tony had heard than his lame movie reference.
Tony sighed. "Pullman's character was an anthropologist investigating zombies in Haiti. Cool flick. It was based on a true story, actually—."
"It was a dreadful film," countered Ducky, "so much so that the author of the book, worried about what his association with the film would do for his reputation and publicly debated leaving the country."
"Something you two might want to consider if you don't get up to interrogation right now," declared Gibbs as he strode into Autopsy.
"Sorry, Boss," managed McGee, and was echoed by DiNozzo. "Ducky said he didn't have anything to add."
"And it took this long to figure it out?"
Unable to meet Gibbs' glare, McGee turned and quickly stumbled towards the elevator, DiNozzo on his heels.
After they had left, Gibbs turned to his friend with a smirk. "Zombiis, Duck?"
The older man chuckled. "I was merely answering young Timothy's query, Jethro. He claims it is research. Perhaps you should ask him why he has such a sudden interest in the risen dead."
Gibbs shook his head and headed for the elevator, not allowing the small twinge of worry he felt to show on his face. Maybe I should…
Tony followed McGee into the observation room, grinning at Probie's discomfort to his stream of commentary. Once inside, Ziva's glare silenced him as all three turned to stare at the interrogation room occupant. The man, slumped in his chair, looked more like someone's grandfather than a hardened criminal. His bright blue eyes held a worried and confused expression, but Tony was not fooled. He had read the file, and the death toll the man had racked up belied his innocent befuddlement. Flynn obviously knew the jig was up and his game face was firmly in place.
"DiNozzo," growled Gibbs as he entered the observation room, "you're up."
"On it, Boss," he said as he sent McGee a smug grin and left the room. The grin was gone by the time he entered interrogation and sat opposite Flynn. The man noticed his stern expression and appeared to wilt.
"Look, man-."
"Special Agent DiNozzo."
"Special Agent DiNozzo, I already told you all I know." The man's flat Midwestern accent was good, Tony had to give him that.
DiNozzo allowed a slow unfriendly grin to spread across his face. "I don't think so Corley…or should I just call you Flynn. As in Cormac Flynn, former bomber for the IRA. Ah, that's right. The luck o' the Irish has jus' run out," he intoned in his best, but still bad, Irish accent.
Suddenly the man's demeanor changed, and he glared at DiNozzo with obvious disgust before letting out a humorless chuckle. "Don' do that, lad, 'tis cruel and unusual punishment," he replied in his natural Ulster brogue. "Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat."
"Póg mo thóin," said DiNozzo with a smirk and the other man snorted.
"I don' think yer bosses would approve o' such language, boy."
"I don't think they care. What they do care about is the Marine you murdered and the barracks you destroyed with one of your bombs, just like you did back in Britain a decade ago. What's a matter? The cease-fire not sitting well with ya?"
"Bunch o' bloody cowards," muttered Flynn.
"Oh, that's good, coming from a guy who used to blow up innocent civilians. Now tell me: why McCready?"
"Why don't ye ask Keane?"
"Well, you see, we tried. We sent two agents out to his place, and—."
"An' how many o' them came back alive?" asked Flynn, his grin sending a chill down DiNozzo's spine.
"Both of them," growled DiNozzo. "What do you mean-?"
"Ah, Doran must not have been at home. Or they weren't some of his 'special people'. It seems yer people were the lucky ones this time, Agent DiNozzo."
"Wait…you knew the brother was dangerous and you sent our team after him?"
"I don' believe I was the one that actually sent them, now was I?" The man snickered at the brief flash of guilt that crossed DiNozzo's face before he could stop it. "Brother…ye don't get it…"
"So explain it to me."
"'Doran', 'Lorcan', Keane. They're one in the same. Different names to fit the situation, although 'Lorcan' really fits him better. He is one cruel bastard."
"And you're afraid of him," DiNozzo guessed, working hard to keep a lid on his anger by taunting the older man. "Is that why you sent us after him?"
"Nah. I figured if I sent ye on the trail o' a serial killer, ye'd forget about little ol' me."
Aware that the interview was quickly spiraling out of control, DiNozzo tried to reign it back in.
"Yeah, right, your partner just happens to be a serial murderer and you're willing to hand him over to us? I don't think so, Flynn. Now, why McCready?"
Flynn chuckled. "Bastard's family were a bunch o' traitors to the cause. It's as good a reason as any." He tilted his head. "He apparently wasn't Keane's 'type', though. He didn't finish the job."
"Lance Corporal McCready was shot three times and blown up. What else would Keane need to do to 'finish'?"
"Cut off his head."
DiNozzo froze for a moment, not sure he had heard correctly. He glanced at Flynn, whose smug smile told him he knew exactly what kind of impact he had made with that statement. The agent turned towards observation, expecting Gibbs to stop the interview of to provide some sort of cue on how to proceed, but the observers were silent. Finally he turned back to Flynn.
"Maybe you better tell me more about this Keane."
"Met him fairly soon after I arrived in this country. I wasn't expectin' to find another native speaker in the area, an' we hit it off. It went fine for awhile, 'til I found out about his hobby."
"And you never said anything?"
"Keane is a right scary bastard. Self-preservation, lad. 'Sides, he said he had a good reason for it…an' I know what it's like to have a cause."
DiNozzo leaned in close to Flynn. "Your 'cause' kills innocent people. Now why was Keane killing?"
"He never said, just that it was necessary to rid the world o' a sickness."
"And how did he determine who was part of this 'sickness'?"
"No idea. Never made any sense to me, how he'd pick 'em. He'd just see one and he'd know."
"How many?"
"No idea, lad. He was at work long before he an' I met. He didn't kill those 'special people' very often, that I can tell ye. He was real picky with his targets."
"And McCready wasn't a target?"
"Not to Keane. He was real specific in his methods: three shots to the chest, then decapitation. Yer man still has his head attached, right?"
DiNozzo let the comment slide. He had a much more important question. "So, if you believe his kills are righteous, why give him up now?" He saw Flynn shift slightly in his chair and moved in for the kill. "You think you're safe from him, in custody, and you want to get rid of him. So much for your belief in his 'cause'." DiNozzo turned to the window. "I think we're done here." He then returned his attention to Flynn and bent down to speak directly to him in a low voice. "You are damn lucky neither of our agents were his 'type', 'cause if they were, not even federal custody would save your sorry ass." He turned and left the room without a backward glance.
When DiNozzo entered the observation room, he was surprised that no one turned to greet him. Gibbs' focus was on Ziva and McGee. Ziva looked distinctly shaken, something DiNozzo had not expected to ever see, and McGee was white as a sheet.
"You okay, Ziva? Probie?" He turned to Gibbs, hoping for some feedback on both the interview and his co-workers, but the lead agent remained silent and his expression was unreadable.
"We are fine," said Ziva.
McGee glanced at her before responding himself. "Yeah…fine."
DiNozzo was about to call him on the obvious lie but was interrupted by Gibbs.
"DiNozzo, make sure our guest makes it out of here without incident. Ziva, check police reports for Keane's M.O. McGee…" The younger agent turned a wary eye towards his boss. "Find Keane. Doran, Lorcan, whatever the hell his name is, I want you to track him down."
"O-on it, Boss."
"I wanna know if we can charge this guy with something else, before Interpol takes custody of him. Now go!"
The team quickly left to follow Gibbs' orders.
McGee barely made it back to his desk before his knees finally buckled and he dropped into his chair. Everything that Flynn had said about Keane kept repeating in his mind, and he was barely able to keep himself together.
"McGee…"
He flinched slightly and looked up to see Ziva leaning over him. The worry on her face was evident.
"I…"
"Do not tell me that you are 'okay'. I know that you are not," she whispered. "But we must work through this. We need to find this bastard before he can hurt someone else."
"But you heard what Flynn said, Ziva. Keane is trying to get rid of a 'sickness'. What if I—?"
"There is nothing wrong with you, McGee. Never think that! Do you understand?"
After a few moments, he slowly nodded.
"Good. Now let us get to work, before Gibbs gets even more suspicious."
"You don't think he-."
"How could he? But he is going know something is wrong if you do not pull yourself together."
"Ziva, I …okay."
She glanced around before reaching out and gently patting his cheek. He gave her a weak smile and turned his attention to his computer. Ziva went back to her desk and after one last glance at McGee, she went to work.
Several hours and multiple phone calls later Ziva looked up from her notes and was surprised to see that it was getting dark outside. She glanced over at McGee and was less surprised to see that he had fallen asleep upright in his chair. She started to rise to go wake him when Tony arrived and noticed the sleeping agent. He grinned and headed towards McGee's desk.
"Leave him alone, Tony."
DiNozzo turned and gave her a questioning look. "Why the sudden concern for the Probie?"
"He was…ill on the way home yesterday and I do not think he has yet recovered."
"Oh yeah? How 'ill'?"
"He…threw his crackers all over the side of the road."
"'Tossed his cookies', Ziva. And that's not something he hasn't done before. Besides, it will be worse if Gibbs' catches him."
"Catches who doing what?" asked Abby as she walked into the bullpen.
"McGee, McNapping," smirked Tony.
Abby chuckled. "Yeah, the Boss-man will skin him alive. C'mon Timmy, rise and shine." She started toward McGee. Neither Tony nor Abby had noticed that McGee had started to twitch, but Ziva recognized the tell-tale signs of McGee's nightmares.
"Abby, wait…" She moved to intercept the other woman but Abby had already reached McGee and started to lean over him. "Tim-."
At that moment, McGee awoke with a gasp, lashing out at the same time against the vision from his nightmare. His fist caught Abby in the chest, knocking her backwards and caused her to stumble and fall, hitting the ground with a thump. She let out a startled yelp, which pulled McGee back to reality and he sprang to his feet.
"Wha-?" His gazed darted around in panic before landing on the woman on the floor. "A-abby? What happen-?"
"What the Hell is a matter with you, McGee!" Abby yelled, rubbing the spot on her chest where his fist had connected. Ziva inwardly winced in sympathy for both of them.
"Oh, God, Abby, I'm so sor-."
"McGee!" Gibbs' voice cut through the commotion. "My office, now!"
After one terrified glance at Ziva, McGee turned and stumbled toward the elevator. Gibbs stopped to help Abby to her feet, ordered her to go see Ducky, and disappeared into the elevator as the metal doors slid shut behind him.
"What the hell was that all about?" asked DiNozzo, finally breaking his silence.
Ziva glanced at Tony and shook her head before slowly returning to her desk, her mind on what would be taking place behind those doors.
Oh God, I am so dead…
McGee stood with his back against the wall and waited for the inevitable. Gibbs had not said a word when he entered the elevator and had turned his back on McGee for the short descent.
I can't believe I did that. I hurt Abby! He's going to kill me…
When Gibbs flipped the switch, McGee braced himself for the onslaught, but Gibbs remained silent. Finally, he turned to face the junior agent and McGee was barely able to hide his shock. He had expected rage, disgust, or at the very least disappointment, but if he had to define Gibbs' expression he would had said the lead agent looked…sad.
"Something you want to tell me, McGee?" asked Gibbs in a low voice.
"I, uh…I don't even know where to start," McGee admitted, wary eyes locked on Gibbs' face.
"How about you start with what just happened."
"Boss, you know I would never intentionally hurt Abby-."
"Yeah, I know, McGee. So tell me what happened."
"It was…a nightmare. I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night and I guess I dozed off at my desk and-."
"You have nightmares like that a lot, McGee?"
"No! No, Boss. Just since…well…"
"Yesterday. When you got…sick?"
Unable to trust his voice at the moment, McGee just nodded.
"Are you still sick, McGee?"
"I don't know…"
Gibbs stared at him for what felt like eternity but was truly only a couple of moments. Finally he reached and flipped the switch to send the elevator back up to the bull pen.
"Go home, McGee."
McGee felt as if the floor had opened beneath him.
"Boss, I…"
"I need you at a hundred percent and right now you're not. So go home, get some real sleep, and come back tomorrow. When you're better. Understood?"
"Y-yes, Boss," stammered McGee, almost sinking in relief. Suddenly he felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. "But what about-?"
"I'll deal with Abby. Get Ziva to take you home."
When the doors opened, Gibbs stepped out into the bullpen and saw his other two team members look up at him apprehensively.
"Ziva, Tony, go home."
"But Boss…"
"It's not open for debate, DiNozzo. Go home. I'll see everyone back here tomorrow morning at 0700. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Boss, but what about—." Tony caught Gibbs' glare. "-never mind." After one more puzzled look at Ziva, DiNozzo grabbed his things and headed for the stairs.
McGee gave Gibbs a wide berth as he went to his desk to grab his bag and headed back towards the elevator.
Gibbs leaned closer to Ziva. "Keep an eye on him, Ziva. Don't let him out of your sight. Do you understand?"
She took in his expression and a puzzled look crossed her face before she slowly nodded. "Yes, I understand." She grabbed her bag and followed McGee.
After they all left, Gibbs sank into his chair with a sigh. He had learned over the years to listen to his gut, but right now he really hated what it was telling him. He knew he had a problem, and not just a bruised and indignant forensic scientist. Until this most recent incident, however, he had not been certain which agent he needed to be concerned about.
He needed to go check on Abby, to settle things as best he could, but right now he had something more pressing. After rubbing a rough hand over his face he pulled out his cell phone and made the call he had been avoiding since the interrogation of Flynn. Finally, after four rings, the other line picked up.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, it's Gibbs."
"Jethro! Long time no talk! How have you been?"
Gibbs chuckled at the enthusiastic voice on the other end.
"Never a dull moment."
"Yeah, I hear ya. So, what's the occasion? Not like you just to call to chat."
"Yeah, I know. Listen, you know I wouldn't normally ask, but I need…I need a favor…"
A/N: For this story, I thought it would be interesting to see how a normal, rational person would deal with the weirdness of becoming Immortal, especially when he did not have another Immortal to explain everything right away. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Highlander, you'll get a more "official" explanation in the next chapter.
Translations: Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat. – May a cat eat you and the Devil eat the cat (just a silly little Irish curse I found); Póg mo thóin – kiss my ass, a little bit of pub slang commonly picked up by non-Irish speakers.
All the stuff on zombies was pulled from various sources. The case described is real, and was the basis for Wade Davis' book, The Serpent and the Rainbow, which was later the inspiration for a movie of the same name.
So, what do you think? Reviews are appreciated, as always.