Fic: Sands of Time: Beginnings 3/?
Title: Sands of Time:Beginnings
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: Highlander: 5.20 "Archangel"
Crossover, AU
Summary: Paris 1997. An ancient evil is stalking Duncan MacLeod, and he must reach out to a former friend for help. Can Bobby Singer help him before tragedy strikes? A rewrite of the Ahriman arc from Highlander seasons five and six. Prequel to "Die Another Day."
The moment Bobby set foot in the airport he sensed it: the presence of another Immortal. His heartbeat quickened and he experienced a moment of panic as he remembered his sword was checked with the rest of his luggage. This was the main reason he usually chose to drive rather than fly whenever possible, the vulnerability of being caught without a weapon. He tightened his grip on the cane in his hand and forced himself to relax. A custom job, made of cold forged iron with a silver handle, the cane was what he carried when unable to keep his blade with him. It might not take anyone's head, but it was sturdy enough to block a sword blow and keep his own head in place. Besides, MacLeod had promised that either he or Richie would be meeting his plane, so as he scanned the crowd of people waiting for their loved ones to disembark, he hoped to catch a glimpse of a friendly face. Within moments his hope was answered.
"Bobby!" MacLeod called out. "Over here."
Bobby started to smile, but then his face fell as he got a good look at his old friend. "Well, you look like crap," he said, grasping the Scotsman's hand and pulling him into a one armed hug.
Raising a single eyebrow Mac huffed a short laugh. "Gee, thanks. It's good to see you too."
"Yeah, yeah. You know what I meant. When was the last time you got any sleep?"
"I slept fine last night," he protested, then at the skeptical look Bobby gave him admitted. "Well... for a few hours anyway."
"Uh-huh." Bobby studied the other man as they made their way to the baggage claim. MacLeod looked pale, with dark circles giving his eyes a sunken appearance. His long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail from which several strands had escaped. "So what was it that disturbed your beauty sleep?" he asked. "Were you just thinking, or did... something else happen?"
He saw Mac's jaw clench a few times. "Nothing happened. It's just... My friends... they think I'm losing it." Taking a deep breath Duncan smiled sadly as he turned to face his old student. "Even I'm not so sure that I'm not."
"You're not," Bobby stated emphatically. He'd been afraid of this. MacLeod had been too calm, too in control when they spoke earlier on the phone. Pulling the Highlander over to a secluded area he grasped the man's shoulders and shook him gently. "You listen to me, 'Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.' You are not crazy. I know exactly what you're going through... I've been there, remember?" At MacLeod's nod he continued. "Now... I ain't completely sure what this is yet, but I'm gonna find out. And then we are gonna take care of it. Together. You hear me?"
Bobby saw several emotions play across the older Immortal's face before he finally closed his eyes, nodded and gave a whispered. "Thank you."
oooOOOooo"You really think you're going to need all this?" Mac asked, as they loaded the several suitcases and boxes Bobby had brought with him into the rented truck.
"Better safe than sorry," Bobby replied. "I'd rather have too much with me than somebody end up dead because the one book, talisman or... whatever we needed was back in Sioux Falls."
Mac grimaced as he slid the last box into the truck bed, his mind's eye once more assaulted with images of blood and death. "Point taken."
MacLeod had loaned his car to Richie so the younger man could obtain the list of items Bobby requested the night before, so while Mac navigated the streets of Paris heading toward his barge, Bobby sat silently in the passenger seat and mentally reviewed the details of the hunt. He did his best to ignore the fact that this was his friend and mentor, rather than some random stranger, that needed his help this time, but that task was proving impossible. The harder he tried to concentrate on the job, the more his mind wandered, showing him scenes from their past: being introduced to him by Connor in 1882; traveling the world together; Mac acting as best man for two of his weddings, then years later standing by his side as each of those brides were laid to rest. For almost a century they'd been in and out of each other's lives, reuniting a few times a year at least. Bobby felt the weight of this hunt more intensely than any other he could remember.
You've already lost one friend due to your failure as a hunter, a voice at the back of his mind told him. Now you're going to lose another.
He shook off the tendril of fear that threatened to encircle his heart. Not this time, he told the voice. This time there'll be no mistakes.
oooOOOoooThis was a very weird day.
Sliding into the driver's seat of MacLeod's 68' Citroen Richie Ryan banged his head against the steering wheel a few times in frustration. He'd thought the shopping trip would be easy- a few crucifixes, some holy water, maybe a bible. That's what they always use against demons in movies, right? Even some of the things he didn't expect, like the salt and iron chain, were easy enough to find. But Witch Grass? Holy Thistle? Dragon's Blood? He'd had to go to three different stores before finally finding what he needed in one of those New Age herb shops.
And he really didn't want to know what they needed the graveyard dirt for.
Glancing at his watch he noted that Singer's plane had landed a short time ago. He and Mac were probably together by now, talking about the good old days and comparing Immortal challenges they'd faced since they last saw each other. Batman and Superman, chatting it up over drinks at the Fortress of Solitude while Robin goes on a milk run. With a sigh he started the engine and began to make his way back to the barge. You'd think by now I'd be used to it, he thought. He was always the trusty sidekick instead of the hero. Standing by to offer his support while Mac was the one to save the day, kill the bad guy and get the girl.
Face it, Ryan, as long as you're with MacLeod you're always gonna be in his shadow. Not to mention, when things get weird around him you usually end up on the business end of his sword. When Garrick was messing with Mac's head, you almost lost yours. When he took the Dark Quickening last year if it hadn't been for Joe, again you'd have ended up several inches shorter. You know what they say, third time's the charm. If you're smart, you'll just dump the stuff at the barge and take off on your bike. Spain's nice this time of year. Why should you keep sticking your neck out just so MacLeod can take a swing at it?
What the hell am I thinking? He slammed on the brakes suddenly, causing the car behind him to swerve to avoid a collision. Pulling over to the side of the road Richie stumbled out onto the pavement, a heavy weight crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. Meeting Mac was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'd still be a petty thief, if not dead, if it wasn't for him. And I asked to do the shopping instead of meeting Singer's plane, Mac gave me the choice.
"Mac is my friend," he said aloud to no one in particular. "He needs my help, and I AM going to stick by him." Bracing his hands on the car roof he shook his head to clear the cobwebs away. And almost as suddenly as it appeared the oppressive weight constricting his heart seemed to vanish.
Yes, without a doubt, this was a very weird day.
oooOOOoooStepping onto the deck of MacLeod's barge, Bobby whistled softly in amazement at the sight that greeted him. The barge was moored on the river Seine, and from its deck you could see the rear facade of the Notre Dame Cathedral with its flying buttresses and gothic spire, the arches of the Pont de la Tournelle, as well as the buildings along the left bank.
"This sure beats the hell outta my view of the scrapyard back home," he joked, turning slowly to take in the vista surrounding him.
"I can imagine," Mac laughed, and some of the fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since his encounter with Landry fell away.
"Damn straight. Next time I talk to Henri I'm gonna have to ask him if he needs another hunter in Paris. A change of scenery would probably do me good."
As he led Bobby down into the main room of the barge Duncan turned to him with a puzzled look. "Henri? You mean there are... there are people like you in Paris?"
"We're called hunters, Mac. And yeah, we're here." Bobby shrugged an affirmative. "France, Australia, India. Just about any place on the globe. I already gave Henri a call before I left home. Asked him to look into demonic omens in the area for me. I'll check in with him tomorrow, see what he came up with."
"But then... I mean," Duncan stammered, looking confused. "Why did you come yourself? Why didn't you just have your friend help me instead?"
"Because you called me, asking for my help." Bobby just stared at him, wondering why he had to ask. "What'd you think I was going to do, just bail on ya?"
"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Duncan replied in a barely audible whisper.
That earned him a sharp glance. "You wanna repeat that?"
"After what I did?" MacLeod raised his voice causing Bobby to flinch. "The way I treated you after Karen... Bobby, I wouldn't blame you for turning me away. You'd have every right."
Bobby again stood back and studied his friend, the look of despair on his face almost frightening the hunter. "Is that what you were worrying about last night when you should have been sleeping?"
"Think about it. You cried 'demon' and I turned my back. Now I'm the one saying it... It'd have a sense of karmic justice to it don't you think?"
"Look, Mac, I don't know where this is coming from or what's going on with you. But let's get one thing straight, I didn't just spend the last fourteen hours in airports and on planes just to come here and say
'screw you.' I didn't call anybody else because, while there are some very good hunters nearby, I don't trust anyone enough to put your safety in their hands. I'm here, and I'm seeing this through." He grasped the Highlander's shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with-?"
Bobby froze midsentence, his body going rigid as an intense vibrating sensation like an electrical current passed through him. There was another Immortal nearby. "You expecting someone?" he asked, his hand instinctively inching toward his sword.
"Hello?" a voice called out from the deck. "Mac? Can I get a hand with this?"
Bobby relaxed as he recognized the voice's owner as MacLeod's friend, Richie, that he'd talked to the day before. Mac opened the door to admit a red-haired young man, with his arms full of boxes and a length of chain coiled around his shoulders.
"There's more out in the car, and next time, Mac, you get to go on the scavenger hunt. Do you have any idea how tough it was to find some of this stuff? I had to go to these... weird stores and talk to... weird people. I think one of them, I swear to God, was a vampire. Very, very strange day." Richie seemed to notice the room's other occupant for the first time. "Hey, you must be Bobby Singer," he said offering his hand.
MacLeod smiled at the young man's eagerness. "Bobby, this is Richie Ryan, my good friend and former student."
"Good to meet you, Richie." Bobby took his hand and grinned. "Vampire huh?"
"Uh... well, I mean he looked like one. That is... if they're real... Are they real?"
Bobby's eyes flitted between Richie and the Highlander. Both of them appeared to be waiting for his answer. "Real. But I doubt the guy you saw was one. They wouldn't likely be out during the day."
"Oh... right... 'cause... sunlight." Richie did his best to cover his shock. "Listen, Mr. Singer-"
"Call me Bobby." He smiled warmly at the young Immortal. The close cropped hair and leather jacket, as well as the youthful air about him reminded Bobby of a certain other young man he'd left back in the States. "After all, we're both students of Mac's. So, in the weird, convoluted world of Immortal relations, that practically makes us family... Kinda... sorta," he added with a shrug.
Richie grinned back. As a child of the foster care system, the idea of 'family' still tugged at a corner of his heart. "Ok... Bobby. Mac and I... well, we were talking earlier and... you see... I was wondering..."
"Just spit it out, kid." Bobby recognized the look he was giving him, and had a good idea where this was headed. "Whatever it is you wanna ask, I've probably already heard it a hundred times at least."
"Werewolves," he said at last. "Real or no?"
Bobby laughed quietly. Yup, time for the hunter's version of 'The Facts of Life.' "Real. Only they don't look like they do in the movies. They're more... human looking when they shift. But they're still just as deadly."
"And silver bullets?"
"Only way to kill them."
Richie nodded, processing the information. "Aliens? The Loch Ness Monster?"
He shook his head in amusement. The boy had enthusiasm, he'd give him that. "Aliens, not real. Nessie... jury's still out."
"So... no aliens," Richie said.
"Nope. Sorry. Bigfoot's a load of crap too."
Richie stared wide-eyed at the hunter, and for a moment Bobby was worried this was all too much for him. Finally he blinked and cleared his throat. "Uh... I got a lot more of this stuff out in the car if someone could..." He gestured towards the door.
MacLeod started towards the door. "Right. Sorry Rich I'll... I'll be right out. Bobby," Mac said, turning to the hunter. "Landry's journal and some of his research notes are on the desk if you want a look. I'll be right back."
The journal was why Bobby had insisted on coming to the barge first before going on to his hotel room, so while MacLeod was bringing in the rest of the hunting supplies he started looking over what the Highlander had assembled. He'd intended to look at Landry's journal first, but his eyes fell upon a small leather notebook, its pages open to reveal a strange "V" shape contained within a double circle, the phrase "Connection to Watchers?" scribbled beneath.
"What's this?" Bobby asked, picking up the book as Mac entered the room.
"The Watcher symbol," Mac explained. "Every one of them has that tattooed on their wrist. In the beginning I thought all this had something to do with Horton's people, so I was trying to remember everything I could about my past encounters with them."
Bobby flipped through the pages and nodded. There were more notes on the case, some obviously copied from other sources, some apparently Mac's own theories. "And the rest of it?"
"Oh that's nothing." Mac shrugged. "I thought that maybe I might be able to figure things out better if I had all my thoughts written down."
Bobby gave him an appraising grin. "You know, I think I could make a halfway decent hunter outta you." At the puzzled look Duncan gave him Bobby pulled out his own battered green leather journal. "We all carry one. A place to keep track of important lore and other information as well as get your thoughts in order."
Duncan and Richie shared a look. There were several things they'd been wondering about, and Singer seemed to be in a sharing mood... "So what exactly is it you do?" Mac asked. "When you're... investigating something. How do you figure out what it is?"
"You said it right there." Bobby opened his journal and passed it over to MacLeod. "I investigate. It's kinda like being a... detective I guess. I talk to witnesses, examine evidence, check out the crime scene. Then compare everything I got to a list of suspects. Except..." He paused. "My 'usual suspects' are a bit more... exotic."
Richie suddenly pulled the journal from MacLeod's hands, looked from the pages up to Bobby then back down again. "What the heck is a rougarou?"
oooOOOoooThe rest of the day was spent in comfortable conversation. Only the barest of bones of hunting life was discusse: there would be time for that later. For now there was a decade and a half of lost time to catch up on. Bobby learned of the life, love and loss of MacLeod's mortal lover Tessa. Thirteen years together, he thought. More than three times my life with Karen. He also learned that, indeed, Richie was as young as he'd suspected. Only a few years older than his boyish looks suggested. Only five years older than Dean. Again he felt a sense of both familiarity and protectiveness towards the newest member of his Immortal family. Richie had Mac, who in Bobby's opinion was all one could hope for in a teacher, so he didn't need his help as an Immortal. But he did need him as a hunter. He silently promised himself, as well as the two men sitting with him, that he'd do everything in his power to get them all through whatever was coming.
Over dinner thoughts of hunting lessons were completely forgotten as Bobby and MacLeod regaled Richie with tales from their past. More than once the young Immortal found himself laughing at some of his mentor's less than flattering adventures. Mac then retaliated by informing Bobby of Richie's recent escapade in Montecour.
"... So, I come around the corner and there's Richie, holding this broken bedpost that, oh, he just happens to be handcuffed to. And after going through all that to escape, he decides to go back in because-"
Bobby wiped away a tear of laughter. "Let me guess. He's got a thing for the blonde kidnapper."
"Her name is Marina. And she's not a kidnapper," Richie insisted. "It was... all just a big misunderstanding."
"Oh, absolutely," Bobby said with a knowing smirk. "Drugging somebody, chaining them up, holding them for ransom. I'm sure she didn't mean any of it."
"Well... no, she meant it, but she... it was... Mac, come one. Help me out here."
MacLeod took pity on his young friend. "There were extenuating circumstances, and everything worked out well in the end."
"Well, I guess that's all that counts." Bobby took another sip of wine. He was surprised at how relaxed he felt in spite of the reason for his visit. Seeing MacLeod again and being able to reconcile with him; it was as if the last fifteen years just melted away and they were back to the way they had been before. Just good conversation, good wine and good friends.
He should have known it wouldn't last.
Bobby knew before he heard the latch of the door open that someone was coming. The intense thrum of presence alerted him to the approach of another of their kind. Turning in his seat he took in the sight of the two new arrivals: the first one, an older man leaning heavily on a cane, with a silver beard and hair, Bobby judged to be only few years younger than he had been at his first death. But it was the second that drew his attention. While his youthful face and head of dark hair lacking a single gray strand showed the world a young man, his eyes told a different story. He was the source of the warning every cell in Bobby's body was screaming out: Immortal.
Macleod tensed as if preparing to do battle. "So where are the men in white coats?"
The gray haired man shook his head sadly. "Mac-"
But Mac ignored him and instead began to make introductions. "Bobby, this is Joe Dawson and-"
"Adam Pierson," the younger looking man cut in.
MacLeod nodded to the other Immortal, an unreadable look passing between the two. "This is an old friend of mine, Bobby Singer."
"Yeah, we know who he is," Joe said, ignoring Bobby completely. "Mac, we went to see Allison Landry today."
"And?" MacLeod asked, suddenly hopeful. Allison was intelligent and well spoken, perhaps she managed to convince them the way she had him. "What did she say?"
"Nothing." Joe stared sadly at MacLeod. "Allison's dead."
MacLeod felt as if a lead weight dropped onto his chest. "Dead?"
"The police believe it was arson." Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Late last night someone set fire to the building." He shared a worried look with Joe before continuing. "A man was seen leaving the scene. Tall, with dark hair pulled in a ponytail."
The room was silent as all present looked toward MacLeod for comment, but it was Richie who spoke first. "No way, guys. Mac had nothing to do with that."
Joe shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "Richie, you think I don't want to believe that? But you have to understand-"
"I do understand," Richie cut in. "This isn't just blind faith, Joe. Mac and I were together from around noon yesterday to a little after eight this morning. He never had the chance to go to her apartment. Not without me noticing."
"Why would I have killed Allison?" Duncan spoke up at last. "She was helping me. She gave me Landry's journal and some of his research notes. She was the one to make me understand what her grandfather was trying to tell me before he died."
"Are you sure that's how it happened, MacLeod?" Adam asked. "You haven't... forgotten anything about last night?"
"I didn't see her last night. I went to see Allison after I ran into you the night before last."
"You mean, after you saw Kronos?" Adam gave no indication of what he was thinking, just continued to watch MacLeod with calm interest.
Mac sighed wearily. "I saw him, I heard him. He was real!"
"Mac, please!" Joe begged. "We're your friends; we just want to help you!"
"You're not helping," Bobby said, addressing the newcomers for the first time. "You're only making this harder for him."
"No, you're the one not helping!" Joe clutched his cane so hard his whole arm shook. "Duncan MacLeod is my friend. Now, I don't know what the hell happened to you to make you like this, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you drag him down into your delusions about... demons and other supernatural garbage!"
"So you don't believe in the supernatural then?" Bobby closed the distance between them. "What do you think Immortals are?"
Joe glared daggers at the hunter. "That's different and you know it. Back in 'Nam I saw the sergeant of my platoon ripped apart in a hail of bullets. After that happened he carried me sixteen miles to a field hospital. I've seen Immortals with my own eyes. I know they exist. What you're asking me to believe..." He shook his head.
"So you ain't gonna believe in something unless you see it for yourself, huh?" Bobby asked. "Probe the nail holes with your fingers and all that crap?"
Joe quirked his head at the Biblical reference. "I'm familiar with the 'Doubting Thomas' story. I remember it from religion class at St. Denis'. And yeah, I'm going to need some kind of hard proof before I believe there're demons running around twentieth century Paris."
Bobby nodded, and then turned his attention to Adam. "And you? If I can prove to you that demons are real you'll stand by Mac?"
Adam shifted his eyes to MacLeod, who was watching hopefully, then turned back to the hunter and nodded. "If you can show me incontrovertible evidence... I'll believe what you say."
Bobby studied the two of them for a moment, then making his decision, walked calmly to MacLeod's phone muttering under his breath. "You boys want proof, huh? Well, I'll give you proof."
The four men stood silent as Bobby dialed a number from memory. "Henri? C'est moi, Bobby Singer. Comment ca va?" He listened patiently to the response, glancing at the group now watching his every move. "Listen Henri...I need another favor..."
Chapter 4
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: Highlander: 5.20 "Archangel"
Crossover, AU
Summary: Paris 1997. An ancient evil is stalking Duncan MacLeod, and he must reach out to a former friend for help. Can Bobby Singer help him before tragedy strikes? A rewrite of the Ahriman arc from Highlander seasons five and six. Prequel to "Die Another Day."
The moment Bobby set foot in the airport he sensed it: the presence of another Immortal. His heartbeat quickened and he experienced a moment of panic as he remembered his sword was checked with the rest of his luggage. This was the main reason he usually chose to drive rather than fly whenever possible, the vulnerability of being caught without a weapon. He tightened his grip on the cane in his hand and forced himself to relax. A custom job, made of cold forged iron with a silver handle, the cane was what he carried when unable to keep his blade with him. It might not take anyone's head, but it was sturdy enough to block a sword blow and keep his own head in place. Besides, MacLeod had promised that either he or Richie would be meeting his plane, so as he scanned the crowd of people waiting for their loved ones to disembark, he hoped to catch a glimpse of a friendly face. Within moments his hope was answered.
"Bobby!" MacLeod called out. "Over here."
Bobby started to smile, but then his face fell as he got a good look at his old friend. "Well, you look like crap," he said, grasping the Scotsman's hand and pulling him into a one armed hug.
Raising a single eyebrow Mac huffed a short laugh. "Gee, thanks. It's good to see you too."
"Yeah, yeah. You know what I meant. When was the last time you got any sleep?"
"I slept fine last night," he protested, then at the skeptical look Bobby gave him admitted. "Well... for a few hours anyway."
"Uh-huh." Bobby studied the other man as they made their way to the baggage claim. MacLeod looked pale, with dark circles giving his eyes a sunken appearance. His long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail from which several strands had escaped. "So what was it that disturbed your beauty sleep?" he asked. "Were you just thinking, or did... something else happen?"
He saw Mac's jaw clench a few times. "Nothing happened. It's just... My friends... they think I'm losing it." Taking a deep breath Duncan smiled sadly as he turned to face his old student. "Even I'm not so sure that I'm not."
"You're not," Bobby stated emphatically. He'd been afraid of this. MacLeod had been too calm, too in control when they spoke earlier on the phone. Pulling the Highlander over to a secluded area he grasped the man's shoulders and shook him gently. "You listen to me, 'Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.' You are not crazy. I know exactly what you're going through... I've been there, remember?" At MacLeod's nod he continued. "Now... I ain't completely sure what this is yet, but I'm gonna find out. And then we are gonna take care of it. Together. You hear me?"
Bobby saw several emotions play across the older Immortal's face before he finally closed his eyes, nodded and gave a whispered. "Thank you."
oooOOOooo"You really think you're going to need all this?" Mac asked, as they loaded the several suitcases and boxes Bobby had brought with him into the rented truck.
"Better safe than sorry," Bobby replied. "I'd rather have too much with me than somebody end up dead because the one book, talisman or... whatever we needed was back in Sioux Falls."
Mac grimaced as he slid the last box into the truck bed, his mind's eye once more assaulted with images of blood and death. "Point taken."
MacLeod had loaned his car to Richie so the younger man could obtain the list of items Bobby requested the night before, so while Mac navigated the streets of Paris heading toward his barge, Bobby sat silently in the passenger seat and mentally reviewed the details of the hunt. He did his best to ignore the fact that this was his friend and mentor, rather than some random stranger, that needed his help this time, but that task was proving impossible. The harder he tried to concentrate on the job, the more his mind wandered, showing him scenes from their past: being introduced to him by Connor in 1882; traveling the world together; Mac acting as best man for two of his weddings, then years later standing by his side as each of those brides were laid to rest. For almost a century they'd been in and out of each other's lives, reuniting a few times a year at least. Bobby felt the weight of this hunt more intensely than any other he could remember.
You've already lost one friend due to your failure as a hunter, a voice at the back of his mind told him. Now you're going to lose another.
He shook off the tendril of fear that threatened to encircle his heart. Not this time, he told the voice. This time there'll be no mistakes.
oooOOOoooThis was a very weird day.
Sliding into the driver's seat of MacLeod's 68' Citroen Richie Ryan banged his head against the steering wheel a few times in frustration. He'd thought the shopping trip would be easy- a few crucifixes, some holy water, maybe a bible. That's what they always use against demons in movies, right? Even some of the things he didn't expect, like the salt and iron chain, were easy enough to find. But Witch Grass? Holy Thistle? Dragon's Blood? He'd had to go to three different stores before finally finding what he needed in one of those New Age herb shops.
And he really didn't want to know what they needed the graveyard dirt for.
Glancing at his watch he noted that Singer's plane had landed a short time ago. He and Mac were probably together by now, talking about the good old days and comparing Immortal challenges they'd faced since they last saw each other. Batman and Superman, chatting it up over drinks at the Fortress of Solitude while Robin goes on a milk run. With a sigh he started the engine and began to make his way back to the barge. You'd think by now I'd be used to it, he thought. He was always the trusty sidekick instead of the hero. Standing by to offer his support while Mac was the one to save the day, kill the bad guy and get the girl.
Face it, Ryan, as long as you're with MacLeod you're always gonna be in his shadow. Not to mention, when things get weird around him you usually end up on the business end of his sword. When Garrick was messing with Mac's head, you almost lost yours. When he took the Dark Quickening last year if it hadn't been for Joe, again you'd have ended up several inches shorter. You know what they say, third time's the charm. If you're smart, you'll just dump the stuff at the barge and take off on your bike. Spain's nice this time of year. Why should you keep sticking your neck out just so MacLeod can take a swing at it?
What the hell am I thinking? He slammed on the brakes suddenly, causing the car behind him to swerve to avoid a collision. Pulling over to the side of the road Richie stumbled out onto the pavement, a heavy weight crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. Meeting Mac was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'd still be a petty thief, if not dead, if it wasn't for him. And I asked to do the shopping instead of meeting Singer's plane, Mac gave me the choice.
"Mac is my friend," he said aloud to no one in particular. "He needs my help, and I AM going to stick by him." Bracing his hands on the car roof he shook his head to clear the cobwebs away. And almost as suddenly as it appeared the oppressive weight constricting his heart seemed to vanish.
Yes, without a doubt, this was a very weird day.
oooOOOoooStepping onto the deck of MacLeod's barge, Bobby whistled softly in amazement at the sight that greeted him. The barge was moored on the river Seine, and from its deck you could see the rear facade of the Notre Dame Cathedral with its flying buttresses and gothic spire, the arches of the Pont de la Tournelle, as well as the buildings along the left bank.
"This sure beats the hell outta my view of the scrapyard back home," he joked, turning slowly to take in the vista surrounding him.
"I can imagine," Mac laughed, and some of the fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since his encounter with Landry fell away.
"Damn straight. Next time I talk to Henri I'm gonna have to ask him if he needs another hunter in Paris. A change of scenery would probably do me good."
As he led Bobby down into the main room of the barge Duncan turned to him with a puzzled look. "Henri? You mean there are... there are people like you in Paris?"
"We're called hunters, Mac. And yeah, we're here." Bobby shrugged an affirmative. "France, Australia, India. Just about any place on the globe. I already gave Henri a call before I left home. Asked him to look into demonic omens in the area for me. I'll check in with him tomorrow, see what he came up with."
"But then... I mean," Duncan stammered, looking confused. "Why did you come yourself? Why didn't you just have your friend help me instead?"
"Because you called me, asking for my help." Bobby just stared at him, wondering why he had to ask. "What'd you think I was going to do, just bail on ya?"
"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Duncan replied in a barely audible whisper.
That earned him a sharp glance. "You wanna repeat that?"
"After what I did?" MacLeod raised his voice causing Bobby to flinch. "The way I treated you after Karen... Bobby, I wouldn't blame you for turning me away. You'd have every right."
Bobby again stood back and studied his friend, the look of despair on his face almost frightening the hunter. "Is that what you were worrying about last night when you should have been sleeping?"
"Think about it. You cried 'demon' and I turned my back. Now I'm the one saying it... It'd have a sense of karmic justice to it don't you think?"
"Look, Mac, I don't know where this is coming from or what's going on with you. But let's get one thing straight, I didn't just spend the last fourteen hours in airports and on planes just to come here and say
'screw you.' I didn't call anybody else because, while there are some very good hunters nearby, I don't trust anyone enough to put your safety in their hands. I'm here, and I'm seeing this through." He grasped the Highlander's shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with-?"
Bobby froze midsentence, his body going rigid as an intense vibrating sensation like an electrical current passed through him. There was another Immortal nearby. "You expecting someone?" he asked, his hand instinctively inching toward his sword.
"Hello?" a voice called out from the deck. "Mac? Can I get a hand with this?"
Bobby relaxed as he recognized the voice's owner as MacLeod's friend, Richie, that he'd talked to the day before. Mac opened the door to admit a red-haired young man, with his arms full of boxes and a length of chain coiled around his shoulders.
"There's more out in the car, and next time, Mac, you get to go on the scavenger hunt. Do you have any idea how tough it was to find some of this stuff? I had to go to these... weird stores and talk to... weird people. I think one of them, I swear to God, was a vampire. Very, very strange day." Richie seemed to notice the room's other occupant for the first time. "Hey, you must be Bobby Singer," he said offering his hand.
MacLeod smiled at the young man's eagerness. "Bobby, this is Richie Ryan, my good friend and former student."
"Good to meet you, Richie." Bobby took his hand and grinned. "Vampire huh?"
"Uh... well, I mean he looked like one. That is... if they're real... Are they real?"
Bobby's eyes flitted between Richie and the Highlander. Both of them appeared to be waiting for his answer. "Real. But I doubt the guy you saw was one. They wouldn't likely be out during the day."
"Oh... right... 'cause... sunlight." Richie did his best to cover his shock. "Listen, Mr. Singer-"
"Call me Bobby." He smiled warmly at the young Immortal. The close cropped hair and leather jacket, as well as the youthful air about him reminded Bobby of a certain other young man he'd left back in the States. "After all, we're both students of Mac's. So, in the weird, convoluted world of Immortal relations, that practically makes us family... Kinda... sorta," he added with a shrug.
Richie grinned back. As a child of the foster care system, the idea of 'family' still tugged at a corner of his heart. "Ok... Bobby. Mac and I... well, we were talking earlier and... you see... I was wondering..."
"Just spit it out, kid." Bobby recognized the look he was giving him, and had a good idea where this was headed. "Whatever it is you wanna ask, I've probably already heard it a hundred times at least."
"Werewolves," he said at last. "Real or no?"
Bobby laughed quietly. Yup, time for the hunter's version of 'The Facts of Life.' "Real. Only they don't look like they do in the movies. They're more... human looking when they shift. But they're still just as deadly."
"And silver bullets?"
"Only way to kill them."
Richie nodded, processing the information. "Aliens? The Loch Ness Monster?"
He shook his head in amusement. The boy had enthusiasm, he'd give him that. "Aliens, not real. Nessie... jury's still out."
"So... no aliens," Richie said.
"Nope. Sorry. Bigfoot's a load of crap too."
Richie stared wide-eyed at the hunter, and for a moment Bobby was worried this was all too much for him. Finally he blinked and cleared his throat. "Uh... I got a lot more of this stuff out in the car if someone could..." He gestured towards the door.
MacLeod started towards the door. "Right. Sorry Rich I'll... I'll be right out. Bobby," Mac said, turning to the hunter. "Landry's journal and some of his research notes are on the desk if you want a look. I'll be right back."
The journal was why Bobby had insisted on coming to the barge first before going on to his hotel room, so while MacLeod was bringing in the rest of the hunting supplies he started looking over what the Highlander had assembled. He'd intended to look at Landry's journal first, but his eyes fell upon a small leather notebook, its pages open to reveal a strange "V" shape contained within a double circle, the phrase "Connection to Watchers?" scribbled beneath.
"What's this?" Bobby asked, picking up the book as Mac entered the room.
"The Watcher symbol," Mac explained. "Every one of them has that tattooed on their wrist. In the beginning I thought all this had something to do with Horton's people, so I was trying to remember everything I could about my past encounters with them."
Bobby flipped through the pages and nodded. There were more notes on the case, some obviously copied from other sources, some apparently Mac's own theories. "And the rest of it?"
"Oh that's nothing." Mac shrugged. "I thought that maybe I might be able to figure things out better if I had all my thoughts written down."
Bobby gave him an appraising grin. "You know, I think I could make a halfway decent hunter outta you." At the puzzled look Duncan gave him Bobby pulled out his own battered green leather journal. "We all carry one. A place to keep track of important lore and other information as well as get your thoughts in order."
Duncan and Richie shared a look. There were several things they'd been wondering about, and Singer seemed to be in a sharing mood... "So what exactly is it you do?" Mac asked. "When you're... investigating something. How do you figure out what it is?"
"You said it right there." Bobby opened his journal and passed it over to MacLeod. "I investigate. It's kinda like being a... detective I guess. I talk to witnesses, examine evidence, check out the crime scene. Then compare everything I got to a list of suspects. Except..." He paused. "My 'usual suspects' are a bit more... exotic."
Richie suddenly pulled the journal from MacLeod's hands, looked from the pages up to Bobby then back down again. "What the heck is a rougarou?"
oooOOOoooThe rest of the day was spent in comfortable conversation. Only the barest of bones of hunting life was discusse: there would be time for that later. For now there was a decade and a half of lost time to catch up on. Bobby learned of the life, love and loss of MacLeod's mortal lover Tessa. Thirteen years together, he thought. More than three times my life with Karen. He also learned that, indeed, Richie was as young as he'd suspected. Only a few years older than his boyish looks suggested. Only five years older than Dean. Again he felt a sense of both familiarity and protectiveness towards the newest member of his Immortal family. Richie had Mac, who in Bobby's opinion was all one could hope for in a teacher, so he didn't need his help as an Immortal. But he did need him as a hunter. He silently promised himself, as well as the two men sitting with him, that he'd do everything in his power to get them all through whatever was coming.
Over dinner thoughts of hunting lessons were completely forgotten as Bobby and MacLeod regaled Richie with tales from their past. More than once the young Immortal found himself laughing at some of his mentor's less than flattering adventures. Mac then retaliated by informing Bobby of Richie's recent escapade in Montecour.
"... So, I come around the corner and there's Richie, holding this broken bedpost that, oh, he just happens to be handcuffed to. And after going through all that to escape, he decides to go back in because-"
Bobby wiped away a tear of laughter. "Let me guess. He's got a thing for the blonde kidnapper."
"Her name is Marina. And she's not a kidnapper," Richie insisted. "It was... all just a big misunderstanding."
"Oh, absolutely," Bobby said with a knowing smirk. "Drugging somebody, chaining them up, holding them for ransom. I'm sure she didn't mean any of it."
"Well... no, she meant it, but she... it was... Mac, come one. Help me out here."
MacLeod took pity on his young friend. "There were extenuating circumstances, and everything worked out well in the end."
"Well, I guess that's all that counts." Bobby took another sip of wine. He was surprised at how relaxed he felt in spite of the reason for his visit. Seeing MacLeod again and being able to reconcile with him; it was as if the last fifteen years just melted away and they were back to the way they had been before. Just good conversation, good wine and good friends.
He should have known it wouldn't last.
Bobby knew before he heard the latch of the door open that someone was coming. The intense thrum of presence alerted him to the approach of another of their kind. Turning in his seat he took in the sight of the two new arrivals: the first one, an older man leaning heavily on a cane, with a silver beard and hair, Bobby judged to be only few years younger than he had been at his first death. But it was the second that drew his attention. While his youthful face and head of dark hair lacking a single gray strand showed the world a young man, his eyes told a different story. He was the source of the warning every cell in Bobby's body was screaming out: Immortal.
Macleod tensed as if preparing to do battle. "So where are the men in white coats?"
The gray haired man shook his head sadly. "Mac-"
But Mac ignored him and instead began to make introductions. "Bobby, this is Joe Dawson and-"
"Adam Pierson," the younger looking man cut in.
MacLeod nodded to the other Immortal, an unreadable look passing between the two. "This is an old friend of mine, Bobby Singer."
"Yeah, we know who he is," Joe said, ignoring Bobby completely. "Mac, we went to see Allison Landry today."
"And?" MacLeod asked, suddenly hopeful. Allison was intelligent and well spoken, perhaps she managed to convince them the way she had him. "What did she say?"
"Nothing." Joe stared sadly at MacLeod. "Allison's dead."
MacLeod felt as if a lead weight dropped onto his chest. "Dead?"
"The police believe it was arson." Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Late last night someone set fire to the building." He shared a worried look with Joe before continuing. "A man was seen leaving the scene. Tall, with dark hair pulled in a ponytail."
The room was silent as all present looked toward MacLeod for comment, but it was Richie who spoke first. "No way, guys. Mac had nothing to do with that."
Joe shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "Richie, you think I don't want to believe that? But you have to understand-"
"I do understand," Richie cut in. "This isn't just blind faith, Joe. Mac and I were together from around noon yesterday to a little after eight this morning. He never had the chance to go to her apartment. Not without me noticing."
"Why would I have killed Allison?" Duncan spoke up at last. "She was helping me. She gave me Landry's journal and some of his research notes. She was the one to make me understand what her grandfather was trying to tell me before he died."
"Are you sure that's how it happened, MacLeod?" Adam asked. "You haven't... forgotten anything about last night?"
"I didn't see her last night. I went to see Allison after I ran into you the night before last."
"You mean, after you saw Kronos?" Adam gave no indication of what he was thinking, just continued to watch MacLeod with calm interest.
Mac sighed wearily. "I saw him, I heard him. He was real!"
"Mac, please!" Joe begged. "We're your friends; we just want to help you!"
"You're not helping," Bobby said, addressing the newcomers for the first time. "You're only making this harder for him."
"No, you're the one not helping!" Joe clutched his cane so hard his whole arm shook. "Duncan MacLeod is my friend. Now, I don't know what the hell happened to you to make you like this, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you drag him down into your delusions about... demons and other supernatural garbage!"
"So you don't believe in the supernatural then?" Bobby closed the distance between them. "What do you think Immortals are?"
Joe glared daggers at the hunter. "That's different and you know it. Back in 'Nam I saw the sergeant of my platoon ripped apart in a hail of bullets. After that happened he carried me sixteen miles to a field hospital. I've seen Immortals with my own eyes. I know they exist. What you're asking me to believe..." He shook his head.
"So you ain't gonna believe in something unless you see it for yourself, huh?" Bobby asked. "Probe the nail holes with your fingers and all that crap?"
Joe quirked his head at the Biblical reference. "I'm familiar with the 'Doubting Thomas' story. I remember it from religion class at St. Denis'. And yeah, I'm going to need some kind of hard proof before I believe there're demons running around twentieth century Paris."
Bobby nodded, and then turned his attention to Adam. "And you? If I can prove to you that demons are real you'll stand by Mac?"
Adam shifted his eyes to MacLeod, who was watching hopefully, then turned back to the hunter and nodded. "If you can show me incontrovertible evidence... I'll believe what you say."
Bobby studied the two of them for a moment, then making his decision, walked calmly to MacLeod's phone muttering under his breath. "You boys want proof, huh? Well, I'll give you proof."
The four men stood silent as Bobby dialed a number from memory. "Henri? C'est moi, Bobby Singer. Comment ca va?" He listened patiently to the response, glancing at the group now watching his every move. "Listen Henri...I need another favor..."
Chapter 4