Seacouver Adventure

This is the second of three (so far) Wolfette adventures in the Highlander universe and something like the fifth Wolfette adventure in all. Each story tries to stand alone but you would be advised to read French Leave before reading this one.

The Wolfettes are humour, the characters fictional -though I will admit that the girls are based on two real fans ;-). All the Highlander characters belong to Davis Panzer, not me. I only play with them and I promise they enjoy themselves as much as I do (I hope).

The black Ford Transit van appeared out of nowhere. Dust devils whirled around it in the swirl of displaced air.

"Well? Did I get it right?" demanded the driver, a short stocky brunette.

Her companion, taller and slightly older with a flaming mop of copper ringlets, surveyed the scene around them. "Hmm, red brick industrial type building, entrance up a short flight of steps, 'DiSalvo's' above the door. You got it right, sister-friend."

The brunette grinned. "Told ya I was getting the hang of those co-ordinate calculations."

"Yeah, and maybe one day you'll even work out the sums to get us home," retorted the second girl acidly.

***********

They parked the van by the steps and trooped upstairs to the dojo entrance. As they reached it, the door swung open and a rather distracted Richie Ryan barrelled out, his sword half-drawn.

"My, he does look pleased to see us, Boss," chuckled the brunette.

"Hi, Richie," smiled the red-head.

Richie stared at her. "Georgie?" he exclaimed. The sword slid back into hiding. "I almost didn't recognise you. What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting," Georgie replied. "Duncan in?"

The young Immortal nodded. "Upstairs. He has someone with him just now."

"Anyone we know?"

He shrugged. "Guy called Adam. Adam Pierson."

The younger girl smirked. "Oh, Me..." she began and stopped short at her friend's signal (well, a sharp kick to the ankle actually). "Yeah, we know.... Adam," she finished. "You don't like him much, do you?"

He shrugged again. "It's not that," he sighed. "I mean, I hardly know him."

Georgie stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay, lad, we know," she smiled kindly. "It did have to be done - you know that."

He threw up his hands in disgust. "Aargh! Not you too! I know that - I don't need reminding - it's just that I.."

"Have a problem with killing women," the girl finished. "Very commendable; but when a woman comes at you with a sword, she's not a women - she's an opponent. Even if you have been rattling headboards together. Remember that and maybe you'll see another season." She grinned at him, reminding him how she knew about him and about Immortals.

He nodded, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

Sue laughed. "Don't these 'older, wiser' types just get on your wick occasionally?" she grinned conspiratorially at the boy. "Tell you what, why don't you and I go get a drink and talk bikes? Boss wants to visit with 'Drop Dead Gorgeous Dunky' and I'm sure she'll get on great with 'Mr Pierson' too. Me? I'd just embarrass her."

********

Methos settled himself on the couch with a beer, grinning as he exchanged opinions on ancient Chinese philosophers with MacLeod. The younger man could be such a fool occasionally, he thought.

There was a rap at the door of the apartment and a faint, odd, sense of presence. MacLeod's eyebrows raised in puzzlement, then he smiled, as if in realisation. He rose to open the door.

"Georgie!" he greeted the slender woman by enfolding her in a warm hug. "You've changed your hair."

"Like it?" she enquired, her arms still locked around his waist, her head burrowed against his chest.

"Let me look," he put her at arms' length and gestured for her to turn slowly. "Yes, definitely suits you. Gives the world fair warning of what to expect," he said with a grin. She giggled and blushed.

"Oh, you - you're so bad for me," she giggled. "Going to introduce me to your friend?" she gestured to the older Immortal who had risen from the sofa, a slight look of puzzlement on his face.

Duncan turned, presenting her to his houseguest. "I'd like you to meet Ms Georgie Hartley. Georgie, this is.."

"Adam Pierson," 'Adam' interjected.

She grinned. "Hello, Methos," she said, and watched the consternation on his face.

"How? What?" Methos stuttered. MacLeod laughed aloud.

"I'm your worst nightmare, Old Man," she chuckled. "I'm 'The Watcher from Hell'. You could call me a 'Lurker' - except I 'post' far too much to be a Lurker. I'm one of your Watchers."

The puzzlement on Methos's face was quickly being replaced by something like anger. "Would you like to explain that?" he demanded icily.

She grinned wryly and winked at Duncan. "Here I go again," she said, "and this time I don't have Sue to blame it on."

**********

Half an hour later Methos's brain reeled with the idea of 'alternate realities' and the concept of being someone else's fiction. The whole idea made him shudder worse than when he'd first found out about the Watchers. Still, he'd gotten used to that idea - he'd get used to this too.

"Fan clubs? E-mail mailing lists and usenet newsgroups devoted to us - Immortals and Watchers?" he echoed. "What do you do in these groups?"

"Talk," she replied. "Lots of talk. We discuss whether or not the Holy Ground rule is Tradition or Physical Impossibility. About whether Quickenings go by the Proximity or Proximate Cause rule. Whether or not Amanda broke the 'No Two on One' rule when she took Zackary Blane's head. Whether female Immies - oops, Immortals - get 'monthlies' and if so, how often: and how we'd like to see someone take Kenny the Brat's head. You're in the favoured running for that honour, since you 'were born long before chivalry was invented'."

To have your words quoted back at you, word for word, by someone who wasn't there at the time was disconcerting. He shook his head slowly.

"We discuss other things too," she added, with a leering smile, "such as 'recovery times'; but I am not going into that now!" Methos caught the glint in her eyes and blushed in sudden realisation of her meaning.

MacLeod remembered this conversation from her previous visit. Hiding a smile, he took the empty coffee cup from her hand and suggested. "Would you like to go out this evening?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oooh, yes please. Can we go to Joe's?"

"You'd like to meet Dawson?" he asked. She nodded emphatically. He chuckled. "I thought you came to see me?" he teased.

"Yeah, and now I have," she retorted with a grin. "Let's go."

*******

"Do you intend to tell Dawson about these 'alternate realities'?" demanded Methos as the three crossed the parking lot to Joe's.

Georgie glanced over her shoulder and smiled ruefully. "Guess I'd better," she replied.

"You could say nothing," MacLeod suggested. "You can be discreet - as I know. You spent several days with me in Paris and gave me no hint of it."

"Until Sue turned up," she agreed. She gestured to a familiar black panel truck in the corner of the parking lot. "Unfortunately she's beaten me to it this time."

Duncan laughed. "Then maybe she's done it for you already."

She shook her head. "Nope. Sue always leaves the explanations to me. Bet you she's got Joe as confused as hell by now and needing an explanation."

*************

Dawson didn't look too confused when they walked in but he did look slightly annoyed. He was in the process of threatening to eject a certain brunette from the bar. Richie was trying to intercede, while struggling not to laugh.

"Come on, Dawson," he pleaded, "this is the only place in town I'm sure I won't get carded. She's with me - I'll make sure she doesn't do it again."

Georgie took in the scene in one glance and sighed deeply. "Oh, Sue, you didn't!" She knew her friend and her - 'hobbies'. "Don't worry, Joe, I'll deal with it."

She grabbed the younger woman by the collar of her denim waistcoat and dragged her into a corner. An animated discussion then took place that none of the men could hear, but which involved finger waggling, upthrown arms and one or two arcane gestures.

Eventually it ended when Sue suddenly grinned and shrugged. Her final comment caused Georgie to break into a peal of giggles. The two hugged and slapped each other on the back.

Sue then shot past the four men, announcing in passing that she was "inspecting the porcelain - back in a tick".

Georgie rejoined the menfolk, smiling to herself in a self-satisfied manner.

"It won't happen again, Joe," she informed the Watcher. "I suggested she reserve her 'man-handling' for men who want to be handled."

Dawson glared at her, not completely mollified. "And just who are you that you can 'suggest' anything?"

MacLeod bit back a laugh. "Fetch yourself a drink, Joseph, and join us," he suggested. "I think Georgie has something she'd like to tell you."

******

It was fairly early next morning when Joe Dawson arrived at the bar, intending to get a head start on his paperwork. As he drew into the parking lot he spotted a familiar figure standing beside a black panel truck, brushing her long red hair.

That crazy woman from last night. Georgie.

"You're a bit early," he told her.

She looked up and smiled. "Earlier than you think," she replied. "I slept in the van last night."

Surprised, he raised both eyebrows. "I thought you and your friend left with Richie last night."

"We did," she agreed. "He offered to put both of us up for the night. I got the sofa. It was hard and lumpy and the sound-proofing between the bedroom and the lounge is non-existent. Richie and Sue are both young, enthusiastic and noisy."

The rueful grin she gave him made him chuckle. "Kind of embarrassing," he suggested.

"Nah - kind of frustrating," she retorted with a twinkle. "I don't grudge them their fun; but they were making me wish I had a bed-partner. Eventually I got dressed, wrote them a note, and went looking for a taxi back here. We left the van parked here last night because we'd both had a drink. I doubt either of them have noticed I'm gone yet."

"So you slept in the back of that?" he gestured at the van. He looked surprised.

She shrugged. "It's actually very comfy - and a pleasant change to have it all to myself. Sue snores, you know," she confided. "The only problem with the van is, umm, it doesn't have... well, we haven't worked out how to get the plumbing installed," she finished, blushing.

He chuckled again at this. "I suppose you'd like to use the bar's facilities? Come on, I'll make you a coffee too. No doubt you need that as well."

She grinned. "Actually, I could treat you to breakfast," she countered. "Anything you fancy - we do have catering facilities."

********

Once washed and, em... 'powdered', Georgie fetched a tray of varied breakfast goods into the bar, while Joe made coffee, and they shared the meal.

He watched as she spread jam on a scotch pancake and frowned.

"About what you said last night," he began. "I have problems believing it all."

"Believe it," she stated, biting into the jammy confection.

He shook his head, still disbelieving. "What proof can you give me?"

"What proof do you want? What proof could I give you? Let's face it, any documentary evidence I could show you, you could claim was forged. Just believe it, Joe. Duncan does - and, as you once told him, after 400 years he's gotten quite good at knowing when someone is telling the truth."

"I did say that to him, didn't I," he murmured.

She nodded. "Not word for word, but more or less," she agreed.

He considered this. "Your TV show - it matches our reality exactly?"

"Well, from talking to Mac, I'd say it's very close," she agreed. "You even all look like the actors who play you. The same events seem to happen, with the same outcome. All the major events, anyway. Can't really say about little details, because little details don't make good plot points and wouldn't get written anyway."

The Watcher was looking very thoughtful. "So, are you aware of, well, of what's going to happen to us?"

"Your future?" she asked. "Well, if your timeline continues to follow the one on the show, then I suppose I am a few months ahead of you."

He nodded. "Umm," he murmured. Georgie frowned.

"Joe, if you're trying to think how to ask me for details of your future, you can just stop right there. I may not have taken any oaths or vows but I respect the 'Web of Time'. Any thing I tell you and you act on will change the timeline - and not necessarily for the better."

"Is there nothing you'd change?" he demanded. "Nothing at all?"

She thought hard for a few moments. What could she tell him - because it was awfully tempting to tell him something. How about 'tell Jim Koltec that no-body's cup is bottomless - he shouldn't take even one more head?' Or 'tell Sean Burns that next time he meets Mac it should be on Holy Ground'. No, because that would be interfering in the Game. Joe couldn't really contact Koltec, or Sean. The Dark Quickening had to happen, despite the bad moments it would cause, because (in her opinion) it made Duncan stronger; facing his darkness and controlling it.

Sooner or later Koltec was going to have to take another head, and the DQ would happen. Better it happen as it had so that MacLeod dealt with Koltec, then Methos could help him deal with himself. Sean Burns would be missed, but without his light inside him, maybe Mac would have more trouble finding his own.

She sighed. "All right," she agreed. "I'll tell you one thing. If Mac ever faces an Immortal called Jim Koltec, keep your gun handy and watch out for Richie."

There, that shouldn't cause too much damage. Who was to say that it wasn't her advice that allowed Dawson to save the kid?

Then she considered further; because there were things she would like to see changed - and this didn't interfere with the Game.

"And one more thing. The Watchers know about you and Mac and they know you've been fudging your records for the last few years. While you've been Watching MacLeod, they've been watching you."

The man took a sudden gulp of coffee and choked. She went on.

"If your old friend Jack Shapiro ever calls to say Duncan is dead in Paris don't just take his word for it. Whatever happens don't go rushing off to Paris to write up your report. If it's true, you can write it up from here."

There. That did it. If there were any Rules to this 'dimensional-hopping' she had just broken all of them.

"If it's true?" Joe echoed. She nodded.

"Hate to say this, Joe, but there are those who don't approve of Watchers and Immortals being friends."

"Which is why I've kept our friendship out of the records," he agreed.

"Out of your records," she stated. "As I said - they know you've been fudging the records. Someday, not so far in the future, they may decide to rectify this. Rectify it rather permanently."

Joe considered this and frowned. "You're saying they're going to kick me out of the Watchers?"

She shook her head. "Rather more permanent than that," she replied. She mimed cocking and firing a pistol at him.

Taken aback, he glared at her with narrowed eyes. "That seems a bit - extreme - for omitting the odd line from the Chronicles."

The woman frowned. "If only that were all it were," she muttered. Oh, boy, the Doctor was right. One step led to another. "I think it's more than the odd line, Joe; plus - haven't you noticed the increase in lately deceased Watchers? Not from old age, I may add."

"I...," he thought about this. "What has this got to do with my altering MacLeod's Chronicle?"

She shrugged. "In itself, nothing - except what people might read into the gaps. However I think Duncan needs to look up his old friend Jakob and explain who and what the Watchers are."

"Jakob?"

She nodded. "Jakob the Gypsy. He'll know who I mean. Tell him to look him up - before things get any worse."

Dawson was about to ask for more details - and Georgie wondered how deep in this she was going to get - but she was saved by the sudden opening of the door and the entrance of two young, noisy humans, one Mortal, one Immortal.

"Yo, Boss! Thought we'd find you here," announced Sue.

The older girl twitched an eyebrow at her. "You mean the note I attached to the coffee pot didn't help?" she enquired scathingly.

Richie had the grace to blush. "We found the note, Georgie," he admitted, "but you just said you were coming back to the van. Sue said you'd be in the bar."

"Yup, if there's a bar, she'll be in it," agreed the younger girl.

The redhead snorted. "You make me sound like some kind of alky!"

"Nah, just a barfly," chuckled her friend. "Especially this bar," she grinned.

Sue came straight to the point. "Richie and I were thinking of visiting the bike races down the coast from here," she announced.

Georgie smelled a rat - or at least a plot. "That's nice," she remarked casually.

"So we thought we'd take the van," the other girl continued. "His bike isn't really suitable for carrying passengers over long distances. Besides, we can use the van for accommodation and save on hotel rooms."

"I see," was the retort.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Why should I mind? I have to check into a hotel so that you two can cavort in the van? No reason to mind at all."

Richie coughed. "You could use my apartment while we're gone," he suggested.

She smiled. "I don't think so, Richie. Last night was enough."

Sue grinned. "Thought you'd be bunkin' with Duncan," she quipped.

This got a raised eyebrow. "Duncan has a house-guest," the older girl replied. "Besides which, you may be labouring under a misapprehension about Duncan's and my relationship."

The grin widened. "Didn't look like it that time in Paris."

Her friend blushed. "That was Paris. Yes, we had a fling. I won't say it wasn't pleasant at the time but there were special circumstances. If you remember he and I agreed before we left that we should remain friends - but no more."

Dawson and Richie watched the interplay.

"I have a guest room at my house," offered Joe. "You're welcome to stay there, Georgie."

Sue sniggered. "Woo hoo, Boss. Won't get a better offer than that - unless it's not to stay in the Guest Room. Ow!" she finished as a foot connected with her ankle.

Georgie was blushing redder and redder.

"I wouldn't want to be a nuisance," she muttered.

Joe shrugged. "You won't be. It's got its own bathroom, you can shift for yourself in the kitchen - I tend to keep Bar hours, so I don't do much cooking there - and I'll give you a spare key."

"Thanks," she muttered, staring hard into her coffee cup. "I'll just collect some things from the van before the 'children' head off into the wild blue yonder."

**********

The luggage was a surprisingly small pile (surprising if you knew Georgie). One small back-pack, a guitar case, one largish shoulder bag of black leather with a caduceus embossed on it and a long, slim bundle wrapped in fabric.

"Once Mike gets in I'll take you to the house and get you settled in. This all you need?"

Georgie nodded. "Yep. Change of jeans, several changes of T-shirt, ditto for the lingerie, one 'nice' dress, just in case, my guitar so I can practice - I'm not very good with it yet - and the sword Duncan gave me."

Joe frowned briefly then suddenly laughed. "Duncan gave you a sword? This was in Paris last year?" She nodded and he laughed again.

"Damn! You're the 'New Student' that we've been searching Europe for!" he informed her. "Do you know how much effort the Watchers have put into finding you? We thought you were a blonde."

She frowned in return. "I was until about two months ago," she replied. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Hey, any student of Mac's we keep a close eye on," the Watcher told her. "Can't afford to ignore a player in the Game."

Her frown deepened. "But I'm not an Immortal," she told him. "The sword is just a souvenir."

"You were seen in combat with an Immortal," Dawson persisted. "It wasn't clear but it appeared you took a Quickening and next morning MacLeod gave you a sword and started teaching you to fight."

She shrugged. "I was fighting Sword of the Lord Morton because he thought he could use me against Mac," she explained. "Duncan took his head - and the Quickening. I just got hit with some overspill energy because he had already taken one a few minutes before and because I was 'attached' to Morton by a length of iron rod; only an Immortal can take a Quickening. You know that."

"And the fencing lessons?"

The sword and lessons in how to use it had been due to a misunderstanding; but to prevent further misunderstandings, she chose not to tell Joe that.

"You give a girl a sword, of course you show her how to use it," she replied.

***********

After seeing her established in his guest bedroom and giving her a set of spare keys, Joe dropped her off at a car hire firm. She couldn't keep relying on taxis.

"Have you enough money?" he enquired.

She grinned in reply and flashed a credit card at him. "Luckily I have a flexible friend," she laughed. "It does tend to get 'bent' rather a lot these days. Wish I'd had it last time I was in this World - though if I had, I wouldn't have had to stay with Duncan on the barge and events might have taken a different turn."

He frowned. "But surely, if you're not from this world, it can't be valid."

She shrugged. "It's not exactly an ordinary credit card. I got it a few universes ago from a guy who, um, specialised in not spending his own money. I don't know how it works - but I really hope the bills aren't being sent back home. That is going to be one hell of a monthly account!!"

**********

Seacouver was a sizeable city, by British standards - three blocks from the car lot and Georgie was lost. The complimentary street map was confusing to read; and map-reading was not one of her talents. Once she'd covered a route it would be hard to lose her, even in a strange city, but working from a map was a different kettle of fish.

The wide concrete expanse of a 'freeway' reminded her of the worst of Glasgow's nightmare traffic system and she longed for the logical street plan of her own Edinburgh (well, it was logical to her). Joe had given her instructions for how to find the dojo but for the life of her she could not find 'exit 14'. Fifteen, yes, thirteen, that also - but no fourteen.

She pulled off the freeway at exit sixteen and found a fast food place with a car park so that she could try to study her map.

Now if that was 'blah avenue', and the other street was 'blah blah boulevard', then that street over there ought to be the one she wanted. She got out of the car and wandered across to check the sign.

Oh good, she sighed in relief. Now all she had to do was make sure she was facing the right way - which way was North from here?

So intent on her 'orienteering' experience was she that she did not notice the stranger with the curiously intense look, studying her from a few dozen yards away. Nor did she notice that when she got back into her car and drove off, he got into his and followed.

********

"Hello?"

The dojo was empty when she arrived. Since she didn't have a key for the lift (elevator), she climbed the stairs to the 'loft' (these were the usually unseen stairs behind the elevator - not the highly visible stairs that led to the changing room and showers).

There was no reply to her knock, so she trouped back down the stairs, then up the other stairs to the changing room, where she changed into her leotard, dance tights and soft 'kung fu' slippers and fastened on her music player and headphones. Then she headed back down to the empty dojo to begin her work out.

With her favourite band blasting into her ears, she began with a few 'rotations' to loosen her joints, then moved onto some yoga stretches that she favoured to get the muscles limbered, and then began to dance, eyes closed, to the music in her earphones.

Halfway through the third track a hand landed on her shoulder.

Heart pounding faster than the exercise would account for, she whirled to face the newcomer.

"Meth.... Adam! Gosh! You scared me out of two years growth!"

"Not that that is necessarily a bad thing ," she added with a grin. "At my age I don't need to grow anymore."

Methos looked surprised. "You weren't aware of me?" he asked.

She grinned at him broadly. "With Jim crooning in my ears I'm not aware of anyone," she replied. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl like that."

This seemed to surprise him even more. "I thought..." he mused, then, "well, maybe not yet," he muttered cryptically. "Are you here for a lesson with MacLeod?"

She shrugged. "Duncan said I could work out here - need to keep my aerobic fitness up cos Trans-dimensional adventuring can be rather demanding - and, yes, I wouldn't say no to a few more self defence lessons, for the same reasons."

He nodded to himself. "He had to go out of town this morning - won't be back until tomorrow night at the earliest. Would you like to spar with me? I need the practice myself."

She shrugged again. "Well, if you promise to go easy on me - no sneaky tricks. I don't have your advantages."

*******

"Hi, welcome home," Georgie was sprawled along the couch with a book in her hand when Dawson returned that night. She jumped up immediately he entered, and slid the book down the side of the cushions. "There's coffee in the pot. Hope you didn't mind me using your CD player."

"Not at all," he replied. "I told you to make yourself at home."

The music sounded - well, vaguely familiar. "Interesting," he remarked, wandering across to pick up the album cover.

The woman blushed. "It's, er, the actor who plays 'you' - he's a musician too."

"So I see," he murmured, turning the plastic case over in his hands. "He really does look like me. Sounds like me too. Why didn't you show this to me earlier? If anything could have convinced me that your story is true, this could. I know I didn't record this CD."

She shrugged awkwardly and blushed further.

"I didn't think of it," she muttered.

He took note of her bashful air and frowned. "Georgie, I've noticed you don't seem comfortable around me," he observed. "Is there a problem?"

If it was possible for her to turn pinker then the fuchsia shade she had already achieved, then she managed it.

"Aw, heck," she muttered. "I might as well tell you, Joe - I'm a Jim Byrnes/Joe Dawson fan."

"A what?" he exclaimed.

"A Joe Dawson fan," she repeated, staring defiantly into his eyes as her skin tone darkened almost to crimson. Dawson could practically feel the heat radiating from her face. "Didn't you hear Sue ribbing me earlier? About 'not getting a better offer - except not to sleep in the guest room'?"

Now it was his turn to blush. "I heard it - I didn't understand it."

She nodded. "Now you do. You're a fascinating character, Joe Dawson. Duncan's closest mortal friend; you know almost everything about him, yet we know next to nothing about you. I also think we've got a lot in common in some ways."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, that first conversation you had with Duncan - it was obvious that you've studied him far more than your assignment would call for. I mean it must have been quite scary for MacLeod, you announcing 'I know all about you, Duncan MacLeod; who you've loved who you've fought, who you've killed' - as scary as I must seem to you."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call you scary - disconcerting perhaps. Just how much do you know about me?"

"As much as Mac does - no more. We can play a game of 'Truth' later and even the score a little, if you like," she offered.

He grinned. "Might be interesting," he chuckled. "What would you tell me for starters?"

"Err, that I find you incredibly sexy?" she retorted boldly.

His jaw dropped. "Sexy?" he echoed. She nodded emphatically.

By now it was impossible for a human female to turn any redder. In fact Georgie was in severe danger of fainting - so much blood had been diverted from her various organs to her skin's surface!

"And I'm not alone."

Dawson sat down carefully in his high, wing-backed leather armchair. He shook his head in bemusement at her revelations. Him, sexy? He had 'fans'?

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?" he enquired.

Georgie relaxed slightly. Of all the 'truths' she could tell him, this was probably the most embarrassing.

"I'll fetch some coffee," she suggested. "Then you can ask to your heart's content."

He eyed her sternly. "Forget the coffee," he told her. "There's a full bottle of whiskey in the cabinet."

*******

Georgie screwed her eyes shut in the bright morning light and hid her head under the bedcovers.

"Urrgh!" she muttered to herself. "You know, vampires have a point."

Beside her someone chuckled deeply - which reminded her where she was. She slid the covers down to her chin and peeked carefully at the other figure in the bed.

"Mornin', darlin'," Joe greeted her. She winced.

"Did we drink all that whiskey last night?" she enquired

Joe pulled himself up into a sitting position and reached for the bottle on the bedside cabinet. "More or less," he replied, shaking the bottle. There was about one shot left in it.

"No wonder my mouth feels like the inside of Sue's sneakers," she muttered. "I haven't done that for quite a while. I made it to bed under my own steam?"

"Well, I could hardly have carried you," he replied. "Though I think it was a joint effort - both of us helping each other. Regrets?" he asked, toying with a tangled lock of 'poppy' coloured hair.

"Only that it took the best part of a bottle of booze." she told him.

*********

"So, you got any plans for today?" Dawson enquired over breakfast.

Georgie grinned. "Yesterday I had a little accidental tour of the city - today I thought I'd try and do it for real. I'll drop by Mac's place at some point and see if he's back, then I'm free for the evening. Mind if I come by the club and hang around?"

He grinned back, looking just a little too pleased with himself. "I'd love that."

"I won't bring the car, though, because if I'm sitting in a bar, I'm going to want a drink. I can get a lift home with you, can't I?"

"If you want to hang around that long. Otherwise you can get a cab back if you want to leave earlier."

******

There were certainly some interesting shops in Seacouver. Georgie's 'magic plastic' got bent quite a bit more during the course of a morning's trawl around them. The only thing that bothered her was that everywhere was so crowded.

She didn't note that among the throng, one figure kept showing up; but then the man was hanging back, staying always on the periphery of the crowd.

"My, don't you look fine!"

Georgie twirled, her eyes twinkling in pleasure at his approval. "My one good dress. I told you I packed it 'just in case'."

"I thought maybe you'd treated yourself today."

She grinned. "Well, I did, actually. I don't like being limited in the wardrobe department; but I'm very fond of this dress and I thought you might appreciate it."

"Oh, I do," he replied, his eyes taking in the form fitting purple jersey fabric that clung to her upper torso and flared from the hips to swirl around her calves. The neckline was low cut and slightly asymmetrical and she wore tights and delicate high heeled shoes of exactly the same shade as the dress. "In fact, you're quite an ornament to my club. I think you deserve the best seat in the house."

He led her to a table in front of the stage and arranged for a waitress to take her order.

***********

The bar was empty. The band were packing up their instruments and Joe and the staff were clearing tables. Georgie was helping collect glasses and stacking them on the counter. At length the last of the debris was clear, the last glass washed and put away and the chairs stacked on the tables to leave the floor clear for the cleaner in the morning.

"Night, Joe."

"Night, Lindy. Georgie, you want to go out and wait in the car for me? I'll just lock up and be with you in a minute."

"Okay, Joe. Don't take too long."

She stepped outside and shivered in the cool night air. Crossing the car park quickly she bent to unlock the passenger door of Joe's station wagon.

A dark figure stepped from the shadows and stood in the edge of the pool of light from the street lamp. Georgie straightened up, suddenly uneasy.

"You're careless, girl," the man addressed her. "You deserve to lose your head."

"Beg pardon?" she queried.

In reply he stepped forward, sword up-raised and gleaming in the lamp-light.

Oh shit! thought Georgie. This guy was immortal - and he thought she was too!

"There seems to be some misunderstanding," she objected, fumbling in her tiny clutch bag.

"No misunderstanding," he replied. "I know you're a friend of the Highlander, MacLeod, but I also know that he is out of town just now. You're fair game."

"I don't even have a sword!" she protested.

He shrugged. "Your problem. Unarmed makes it easier for me - don't struggle and it won't even hurt," he suggested, lunging forward at her.

Georgie dived to one side, squawking in alarm. The purse dropped to the ground but in her hand she now gripped a short metal rod. A slight twist and suddenly she held a six foot staff.

"I said I didn't have a sword," she retorted. "I didn't say I was unarmed." Mentally she thanked Marcus and Delenn. She still felt that a 24th century phaser was a bit 'not quite done' in a world where phased energy weapons were still the stuff of science fiction but she had no compunction about other weapons she had 'acquired' in her travels.

Even with a Minbari fighting staff in her hands, the safest thing she could do now was to get out of here. Unfortunately the unknown Immortal was between her and the bar. Holy Ground? Was there a church nearby? She tried to remember the geography of the area while she fended off his sword blows.

The staff was alien metal from two hundred years in the future. It was strong enough to parry a sword blow and take no damage. Weights in each end gave her blows some power but not enough to disable an Immortal for long. She either had to hurt the man seriously - serious enough to incapacitate or kill a mortal - and buy herself time to get away, or she had to direct her retreat in the direction of the old church a block and half away.

She was beginning to tire now. It had been a long day and she had spent the last few hours in a smoky bar, drinking steadily if not hard. Adrenaline had sobered her considerably but her reactions were still slowed. Her opponent had already nicked her in several places. This fight was not going to her advantage.

Suddenly the roar of a car engine disturbed the night. Georgie dived sideways as the station wagon plowed into her opponent and narrowly missed her.

Joe Dawson leaned sideways and flung the passenger door open. "Get in!" he ordered and she wasted no time in obeying him.

"There's going to be hell to pay if anyone was watching that," muttered Dawson.

"There's going to be hell to pay anyway," Georgie muttered in reply.

He glanced at her. "You want to mop up some of that blood until you start to heal?" he asked. "There's a towel on the back seat."

She looked down and noticed what he meant. "Oh shit. That's gonna need stitches." She grabbed the towel and tried to staunch the bleeding from the long, shallow slice on her thigh.

Dawson snorted. "I've never heard of an Immortal who needed stitches."

She gave him a hard stare. "Joe, I told you before; I'm not immortal. This isn't going to just heal up."

He returned her stare. "Well, he certainly believed you are."

She sighed. "He was mistaken. It's a long story, Joe, and I'll tell it to you after you've gotten me to medical help."

He gave her a disbelieving look, then stared at the wound on her leg, which was showing no signs of stopping bleeding.

"I'll take you to St Timothy's," he murmured.

She shook her head. "Bad idea. They'd surely have to make a report on a wound like this. How would we explain it? Not broken glass."

"You fell against a piece of sharp metal."

"Oh yes, doctor. It was a piece of very sharp metal - three foot long and razor sharp," she retorted, then she sighed again. "Take me to the dojo, Joe. I left my medical kit there when I was working out with Methos, just in case."

He shook his head. "You need more than a first aid kit."

She shook her head in return. "This is more than a first aid kit, Joe. You get me to it and I'll be okay."

*******

By the time they reached the dojo she was beginning to feel light headed. Joe held the car door open for her as she stumbled out and up the steps to the entrance, still holding her towel pressed firmly against the wound.

Methos met them in the dojo itself. He stared in surprise at the still bleeding wound, then swept her up in his arms and carried her towards the elevator.

"The black bag, Joe, in Duncan's office," Georgie directed the man to the fetch the medical kit.

*******

"Sword of the Lord Morton and, oh what was his partner's name? - Stratton, that's it - were working together. Sort of an uneasy alliance. They tried to use me against Duncan; but I wasn't having that. That's why I was fighting Morton - using a makeshift spear I found.

"Duncan took Stratton's head and Morton tried to take Duncan while he was still in the 'post Quickening fugue'."

"I thought you said he was fighting you?" interrupted Methos.

She nodded. "He was - but when the Quickening started he just abandoned our fight and ran to see who had won the main event. I followed - because I wanted to know who had won too."

"Naturally," Joe agreed. "So what happened then? The report said it wasn't clear."

She shuddered in memory. "I yelled a warning to Duncan -not that it would do any good - and then I ..., well I used my 'spear'. It was actually a length of iron railing or something, and I was rather ... well, nice young ladies from Edinburgh don't do that kind of thing......so when the second Quickening started I was sort of 'connected' to Morton. I hadn't dropped the spear."

"You took a blast of overspill energy," Methos realised. "But that could have killed you - same as getting a shock from the electrical mains or being struck by lightning."

She nodded. "I know. It knocked me out and I felt very odd afterwards. It didn't kill me though - and it certainly didn't make me Immortal: but it did do something strange. After that Duncan and Richie could sense me as if I was an Immortal. That's why he gave me the sword and the sword fighting lessons. They just wouldn't believe me when I said I couldn't be Immortal - and I couldn't tell them about me being from another reality.

"When Sue turned up she let the cat out of the bag and I had to explain everything. Then we were able to prove to Mac's satisfaction that I wasn't immortal. The 'zing' or 'buzz' was supposed to fade - but obviously it hasn't." She looked at Methos, who shook his head in confirmation of this.

Joe shook his head too, in confusion. "But why?" he demanded. "Why would they be able to sense you?"

She shrugged. "I have a counterpart in this world," she explained. "It seems she might very well become Immortal. I won't - there are no Immortals in my world and there's no way I could be one; besides which, much as I might occasionally like to think I was adopted, I only have to look in the mirror and at my four siblings to know I'm no foundling. However it seems that the zap I received made me resonate with her."

"So when we sense you we're actually sensing her? That would explain the strangeness of your presence," suggested Methos. "Although the strangeness would be enough not put some people off taking your head."

"So I noticed," she returned. "What am I going to do about this guy?"

The Immortal smiled. "Well, the first thing you're going to do is get yourself cleaned up," he suggested, opening MacLeod's wardrobe and throwing some clothes at her. "Go take a shower. You'll be staying here tonight at least, just in case he comes to and decides to follow through on his earlier intentions."

"But he knows about me and Duncan being friends, so he must know about this place," she protested.

He nodded. "Sure," he agreed, "and from what you said earlier, it seems he also knows that MacLeod is out of town. He may even have chosen to meet you tonight because Mac is out of town. He probably doesn't know about me and if he comes by and senses me, he may think it is MacLeod and shy away."

"He's got a point, honey," Joe interjected. "Maybe it would be best if you stayed here just now - until Mac gets back into town at least. I'll drop your stuff by in the morning."

She sighed. "Thanks, Joe. Do you want your keys back? I'm afraid they were in the purse I dropped in your carpark."

"Thanks for reminding me," he fished in his pocket and brought out the tiny clutch purse. "Picked it up as I was getting in the car. You can keep the keys; maybe once this is over we can get back together."

*******

"Very fetching," Methos remarked, helping himself to a beer from the fridge.

Georgie adjusted the hang of the overlong shirt she was clad in and sighed. MacLeod's clothing was large enough on her that his shirt made a passable mini dress.

"I'd be happier in jeans and a T right now - and I've no shoes except those high-heeled things I was wearing last night. Joe said he'd drop my stuff by this morning - it's after one o'clock now. I'm a little worried."

"Have you called him?"

She nodded. "He's not answering at home and Lew says he hasn't arrived at the bar. He was due in for the lunchtime shift because he was taking this evening off."

He put down his beer and frowned. "He's late?"

She nodded again. "Only about half an hour - but Lew says it's not like him."

He frowned again and shook his head. "I've known Joe for a few years. Not well - until Mac brought us together - but it isn't like him."

Georgie nibbled thoughtfully at her bottom lip. "I left my hire car at the house yesterday. Would you run me up there?"

*********

The house door was ajar. Cautiously Methos pushed it open. Georgie pushed past him and strode in, her fighting staff extended.

"There's no-one here," she announced.

"I know," he replied.

The front room was a mess. Chairs overturned, books scattered, CDs strewn across the floor. No Joe. The wheelchair he used at home lay on its side beside the bedroom door. A note was taped to its wheels.

"You want him, come and get him. The park, midnight. You may bring a sword."

*********

Back at MacLeod 's loft Georgie paced in a panic.

"Methos, what am I going to do?" she pleaded.

"Leave town?" he suggested.

She glared at him. "And where does that leave Joe?"

He shrugged. "Then fight," he offered.

"I can't!" she protested. "I'm not part of your Game."

He shrugged again. "He thinks you are and I'm not totally convinced you're not. You may be from a different 'reality' - but how do you know all Immortals aren't? We don't know where we come from, after all."

"I have brothers and sisters."

"Maybe I do too," he retorted. "Or did. Georgie, I'm not going to fight this man for you. This is your problem; you have to deal with it. Fight him or find some way to free Dawson without fighting."

She glared at him again. "You won't help?"

He shrugged once more. "I will do what I can, short of fighting your battle. Perhaps I can find out something about your enemy for you. Did he tell you his name?"

"I already told you he didn't."

"Then was there anything noticeable about him? His accent?"

She shrugged. "American, could even be Canadian - don't expect me to know the difference."

He sighed. "His sword?"

She thought. "Fifteenth or sixteenth century. I can't be more specific than that. His hair was modern day shortish - collar length. Clothes were run of the mill, nothing special about them, apart from the longish coat - you all wear those. To hide your swords."

"It helps," he told her.

"No scars that I could see. Ordinary face that wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Mr Average with a sword."

"All right. I'll ask who might be in town and hunting. I'll have to be subtle. Meanwhile I suggest you get downstairs," he threw her sword at her, "and start practising."

**********

The park at midnight was dark and cold. Georgie shivered in her heavy sweater but she decided not to wear her hampering jacket.

"Will he ever come?" she muttered.

At her side Methos replied, "Well, we are a little early. Are you always so punctual?"

She giggled nervously. "I have a phobia about being late."

"Your opponent doesn't seem to suffer from the same problem. Sorry I couldn't find out anything about him."

She sighed. "You tried - and maybe it's for the best that I don't know anything. If I knew who he was, how old he was, who he'd fought and all that it might overawe me. This way he's just some random thug - and those I've fought before. Never before with a sword, though."

The sound of a car approached the small wood where they waited and Methos stiffened. A few minutes later a man strode into the clearing.

"Brought a friend, have you?" demanded her opponent. "He can't interfere."

"He's here to make sure you let Joe Dawson go," Georgie retorted.

"Your friend who tried to run me down with his station wagon? Maybe I don't want to let him go - I have a score to settle with him, after all."

Methos clucked his tongue and shook his head. "You know, there's one thing I've learned over my long lifetime: never piss off a woman in love. If their man is in danger a woman will fight that much harder."

The other Immortal considered this and nodded. "Good point," he agreed. "In that case, you'd better go fetch the mortal." He threw a set of keys to the older man, who caught them and set off in the direction of the vehicle.

Once they were alone, battle was joined. Georgie parried the man's first swing with no problem and aimed a blow of her own. For a few minutes it seemed they were evenly matched. Swing, parry, strike, counterstrike, neither had the advantage.

But he was stronger, older and more experienced. Slowly she was being driven down, worn out. He also suffered less inconvenience from minor wounds.

Methos returned, leading Dawson, who was leaning on the Immortal in lieu of his cane. The two stood at the edge of the clearing to watch the progress of the fight.

Georgie was breathing hard. Aerobic fitness training or not, she was outmatched by a man who was used to fighting for his life. She was back-pedalling now, looking for an opening to cut and run now that she knew Dawson was safe.

The stone wasn't large; just large enough to turn an ankle. Suddenly she was sprawled on the ground.

Her opponent grinned and raised his sword for the death-strike. Dawson would have dived forward if Methos hadn't been holding him back as well as upright.

*Click* * Phhhtttzzz*

Three things happened at the same instant.

A black transit van materialised on the other side of the clearing. The upraised sword glowed white then vanished in a pool of molten metal and the man fell forward with the inertia of his aborted swing.

"Yo, Boss! This do for a rescue?"

Georgie glared at her travelling companion. "Last minute as always. You couldn't have arrived ten minutes ago?"

Sue chuckled. "To quote someone not so a million miles away - Wuss! Where's your sense of drama?"

"Back home on my video shelf."

Sue chuckled again and helped her friend up.

"That's not how the Game is played!" protested the fallen Immortal, recovering and trying to get to his feet.

Sue planted one dainty size 9 (US) foot in his rear and helped him back onto the ground. "I'd stay down, if I were you," she suggested. "You saw what happened to your sword - that was setting ten. Setting sixteen will vaporise rock; want to bet it will do the same to your head? I wonder if there would be a Quickening if I did and who would get it? Old Sexy Toes there, or my friend Richie?" she jerked her head to the van where Richie Ryan lounged, sword in hand.

"You'd have been terribly disappointed, you know," Georgie told him. "I'm not really one of you."

Methos strode forward. "You have no sword now. Richie and I are still armed. May I suggest that we give you a short head start to get out of town? Say, 30 minutes? After that whichever one of us who finds you gets a free shot at your head."

*********

Duncan MacLeod listened to the tale his friends told.

"Well, when Boss called me on the communicator, I knew there wasn't time for Richie and I to drive back to the city. Luckily we had a map in the van and Richie knew the town well enough to help me pinpoint the site of the duel. Getting good at those short hops, huh, Boss?"

"Just work on the big ones, please," Georgie suggested. "I'd like to get home before I things get too out of hand." She sighed deeply.

"You know, I used to think my life was one of those cosy domestic soaps, with me a minor character in it. You know, the one who doesn't often get the big storylines but stands and sympathises with the main protagonist in his or her troubles. Sometimes it's been more like a gentle sitcom - something like Friends or Cheers - but recently I think my script-writer has changed the format and I'm now the heroine in a adventure-drama."

Sue looked worried. "I do hope not, Boss," she remarked.

"Why not?" asked Richie.

"Cos that would make me the sidekick. I wouldn't like to start suffering from 'Sidekick Syndrome'."

"Sidekick Syndrome?" he echoed.

"Yeah, you know. Sidekicks get the best lines - but never the best men. They have a nasty habit of getting captured, tied up and tortured."

"In that case, I'm the Sidekick," said Georgie. "Nah, you're the kind of sidekick whose schemes always rescue the heroine at the last moment and walks off into the sunset arm in arm with the handsome hunk, leaving the heroine wondering what she did wrong."

MacLeod smiled at this exchange. "Well, it certainly seems that you had a busy few days while I was away," he observed.

"Yes; and where were you?" asked Georgie.

"Scotland. I had to find someone a teacher. However, I have a feeling that she will do all right."