DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction, based on fact. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely intentional. If you recognize yourself in this story, please consider it a compliment as this is written solely for the purpose of having fun. *I* do not have short black hair or long brown hair. As for how I altered 'history', to suit my purpose, consider this how at least some of us wished the night had played out.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The idea for this story came to me while watching Jim Byrnes sing with the Lloyd Jones Struggle band at Larry's Greenfront in Seattle. It seemed obvious to me that he really was enjoying himself. Please send all comments to me at the address above. The only *pay* an amateur writer receives is the feedback from readers like you. Please don't let me down.
Permission is given to distribute this work, including hard copy, as long as all disclaimers, notes, and my name and address are included. Just let me know where you are putting it and make no money from it.
CREDITS AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
I want to thank all the people who edited Sonja van den Ende, Jette Golde, Todd Andrews, Monica Jordan.
"Don't you like it?" Duncan grinned, then continued to nibble at Tessa's ear.
"Yes, I do, but we're in public." Tessa Noel pushed her lover of twelve years back into his seat.
"So?" MacLeod leaned forward and began to kiss Tessa's neck gently starting just below her ear and continuing down towards her breast.
"Mac," Tessa giggled, "please."
Duncan MacLeod sat up straight and looked across the room at the other diners in the restaurant. "Okay, I'll stop, but I don't think anybody is paying attention to us."
Tessa picked up her wine glass to take another drink, then remembered it was empty. "Maybe you're right. The waiter isn't ever around when you need him."
It was good to see Tessa smiling. When Duncan returned from his trip to Peking a week ago and learned Tessa had been kidnapped by mountain men he spent the next few days in the wilderness tracking her. She'd held her own against the Immortal, Caleb, but the experience had been traumatic for both of them. They needed this time together to reaffirm their love for each other.
"The waiter is more interested in that group over there," Duncan observed. A sign at the end of the table said 'Byrnes Party'. "He's probably anticipating a big tip."
"True, but I wish he'd come take our order. I'm hungry."
"So am I," Duncan agreed as he began to nuzzle Tessa's neck again, "but not for Italian. I want French."
Tessa laughed aloud, then drew MacLeod close. She kissed him passionately, all worry about where they were forgotten. Several seconds later, she pulled back slightly, but kept her left arm around his shoulders. She wove the fingers of her right hand into his ponytail, stroked the hair gently and studied his face.
"What are you thinking about?" Duncan asked.
For a moment Tessa didn't answer. She had seen her first beheading just a few days before and the memory of that was still vivid. She couldn't imagine what it was like for Duncan. The power that struck his body would have killed a mortal man. He was so weak when it was over that all she wanted to do was hold and comfort him. Even though she had been with Mac for years, it was only in the last few months that she'd learned about this aspect of his Immortality. "I was wondering what it's like for you when you take a Quickening...when you take someone's head."
MacLeod looked away. Receiving the Quickening of another Immortal was both agony and ecstasy. How could he ever explain the simultaneous feeling of excruciating pain and sublime pleasure to a mortal? He concentrated on the antics of the seven people sitting together across the room. Their conversation seemed quite animated and he wondered what kind of party the Byrnes' were having.
A woman with long brown hair and another with short black hair were excited about something. An occasional word drifted over and he figured out they were going to some blues club later in the evening. MacLeod wanted his life with Tessa to be that carefree again, but the Gathering had caught up with him and he knew things would never be the same. He was back in the Game and would have to continue to kill to survive.
"If you'd rather not talk about it..."
"No," Duncan met Tessa's eyes, "it's not that. I just never wanted you to see it happen. I never wanted you to be brought into my world."
"But it's a part of who you are and I want to know everything about you." She placed her hand on his side where he'd been run through with the sword. "You were hurt and could have been killed. I don't want to lose you."
MacLeod drew Tessa into a tight embrace and nestled his face in her sweetly scented hair. "You could have been killed too and I don't want to live without you."
Tessa's voice was muffled as she spoke against Mac's chest. "When those men had me, I was afraid I'd never see you again. When they touched me it made my skin crawl."
Unsure if he should ask the question on his mind or wait for Tessa to tell him, Duncan hesitated. "Did...did...they...?"
Pulling back so she could see Duncan's face, Tessa said, "No, they didn't." She chose to not tell Mac how close she had come to being raped by Doyle. When he had her on the ground, Tessa was certain it was only intervention by Josh that had saved her.
"I should have been there for you."
"You can't protect me from everything, Mac."
"I don't want you put in danger because of what I am, because of what my life is like."
Tessa placed a hand on Duncan's cheek. "Your Immortality had nothing to do with what happened to me. Those men were monsters and it was just a coincidence one of them was an Immortal. They would have taken any woman who came along. It's because you are who you are that I'm okay and they aren't out there to hurt another woman."
They had held each other quietly for several minutes when Duncan realized the waiter was standing by the table.
"Ummm," the waiter cleared his throat. "Are you ready to order now?"
Tessa slid back into her chair, pushed her hair out of her face, and said curtly, "Yes."
Smiling at his lover, Duncan turned to the waiter. "I'll have the ravioli and the lady will have a Caesar salad."
"Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?"
Tessa held up her glass. "Could we have some more wine before we get our dinner?"
"Yes, ma'am, right away."
As the waiter left, Duncan began to nibble at Tessa's ear again. "I hope he doesn't come back too soon." With his face close to Tessa's, Duncan grinned, then continued in a deepened voice, "Tonight, I'm going to show you what a Quickening is like."
In was a couple hours later when Mac and Tessa finally left the restaurant. "That was pretty good food, once we got it," Tessa said.
"Passable, good, I'd say. It was nothing like what Fitz and I used to get in the old country."
Tessa looked up at Duncan. "Who?"
"An old friend. You've never met him."
"And just how long ago was it that you and this old friend got such good Italian food?"
"About three hundred and fifty years." MacLeod grinned.
After slapping him playfully, Tessa slid her arm into Duncan's and they walked up the well lit city street. They had gone only a couple of blocks when MacLeod stopped.
"What is it," Tessa asked, "an Immortal?"
"No." Duncan shook his head. "The music coming from that club over there reminds me of a singer I heard a long time ago in St. Louis."
Tessa glanced across the street and saw 'Kelley's Greyfront' painted on the window of the bar. "It's the blues, isn't is?"
"Yeah, a real kick butt kind of blues." They both listened until the song ended.
"Do you want to go in?" Tessa asked.
Duncan put his arm around Tessa's waist. "No," he grinned mischievously. "I want to go home with you. Richie has gone out with friends tonight and we'll have the place to ourselves."
Smiling up at the man she loved, Tessa felt a sense of peace and safety in his arms. The memories of her ordeal would fade with time. All that mattered now was that Mac was there for her. His life as an Immortal was something she accepted, with the full realization of what that meant. She knew that other Immortals would come for him and he would have to kill. But the choice to stay with him wasn't a difficult decision for her.
Duncan felt young, really young, as he held Tessa next to him. He had never been so close to a mortal woman and the thought that he had almost lost her was something he didn't want to face. It was hard to believe that a few months ago he had considered leaving her permanently to keep her safe. Making the decision to stay when his very presence could put her in danger had been difficult, but now he knew it was the right choice.
Joe Dawson ended the song with a flourish. He ran his hand through his short gray hair and smiled broadly. When the enthusiastic applause died down, he said, "We'll be taking a short break, but we'll be back, so don't go away." He placed his guitar into its rack, picked up his cane, and made his way down the narrow stairs and off the stage.
"Hey, Joe," a short, black-haired woman seated at a side table shouted, "you're the greatest!"
"Thanks." Joe smiled at her and continued to weave his way across the crowded dance floor. It wasn't often he got to indulge in his hobby in a club like 'Kelley's Greyfront' and he was having fun. When he'd gotten a call from his old friend, Sean Kelley, Joe had jumped at the chance to come play and sing the blues.
As Joe walked through the back employee entrance of the bar he was met by the owner of the place. "Dawson, you're sure a life saver." Kelley shook Joe's hand. "I can't thank you enough."
"I'm the one who should thank you. This sure beats hanging out in a book store."
The ruddy-faced Irishman laughed heartily. "Maybe so, but when Bill's sax player called to tell me Bill had laryngitis, I was sure I was going to have to cancel tonight's show. There was no way I could have found another act to take the place of the band on such short notice."
"Well, I'm glad you called me. After all, I'm not a professional like they are."
"Maybe you're not, but you could be." Kelley heard his name being called from inside the bar. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you after closing."
Joe sat in the employee lounge resting and sipping his drink. He was wet with sweat from the exertion of his performance and the hot lights on stage. This night off from Watcher business was more of a work out than he'd had in a long time, but it was a pleasant change. Playing with the band was like being in a fictional world for he knew that after tonight he would return to his real life avocation of watching Immortals.
Tomorrow he had to enter the report on MacLeod's latest beheading and catalog the artifact returned from the site. Joe wished he had been the Watcher on duty for the combat because it would have been something to see MacLeod defend himself against his own katana using a battle ax. It was only recently that MacLeod had become more active in the Game, and things were starting to get interesting.
Fifteen minutes later, Joe returned to the front of the bar. The band was already back on stage getting ready for the next set. He leaned against a door frame and watched the activity in the small place. The black-haired woman he'd seen earlier approached him and handed him a beer.
"I asked the bartender what you were drinking," she smiled. "Come sit at the table with my friends and me."
Joe followed the woman around an "L" shaped set of tables and took a seat next to a woman with long brown hair. He raised his bottle and said, "Thanks for the drink."
"It was the least we could do," the long-haired woman said. "We're having such a good time listening to you."
"Well, thank-you kindly." Joe took a drink from the green bottle.
"When you're on stage there is an almost electric energy in the air," the woman with the brown hair said. "I can sure see you love your music."
"I do at that," Joe agreed. For the next several minutes Joe talked with the group, then he stood. "It's been nice meeting you all, but I've got to get back to work."
Near the end of the next set, Joe looked down at the crowd in front of the stage and saw the long-haired woman he'd sat next to earlier. She and a young man were dancing to the energetic music. Joe loved the idea that his music brought so much pleasure to others. As he finished the piece, he caught the eye of the woman and winked at her.
"Are we having fun?" Joe shouted into the mike. He was greeted with loud applause and a few whistles. When the noise level dropped some, he launched into a his last song of the night. He closed his eyes and felt the music in every fiber of his being. At the end of the piece, he waited for the applause to stop. "The 'Bill Jenkin's Struggle' and I want to thank you all for being here with us. Be careful as you go home. Thank-you and good-night."
Joe was still on the stage when he heard someone call his name.
"Joseph! You old fossil," Stan Cherry shouted, "come have a drink with me."
Locating the speaker standing just in front of the stage, Joe smiled. "Stan, what are you doing here?"
"Enjoying the blues. What does it look like?" Stan stepped back as Joe made his way down the stairs. The two men each took stools at the bar and ordered drinks.
"I thought you were into rock?" Joe asked.
"Just because I own a club that specializes in rock doesn't mean I don't enjoy other kinds of music." Stan laughed.
Joe sipped his drink and studied the man seated next to him. Joe had known Stan for several years, but they didn't see much of each other. "How's your business doing?"
"Well, I'm making a profit so I guess business is fine."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic."
Stan stared into this glass as he answered. "If all I wanted out of life was to make money, I could open a chain of clubs and never have to worry."
"But..."
"I have a dream, Joe. Have you ever wanted to do something totally radical?"
Joe scanned the thinning crowd in the bar. He'd had fun tonight indulging in his musical hobby. "Yeah, I have a dream, but it's not really radical." For the last several years Joe had worked in his brother-in-law's book store. The job gave him the freedom necessary to continue his Watcher activities, but running someone else's store wasn't what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. "What are you thinking about that is so different?"
"Dinosaurs."
"What?" Joe turned towards Stan. "I thought you said dinosaurs."
"I did. I've been going out on digs for years, but I want to do it as more than just an occasional hobby." Finishing his drink, Stan faced Joe. "I enjoy the club, but it's not fun anymore."
"So what are you thinking about?"
"Within a year, or maybe a little more, I'm going to sell out and go to Montana." He paused, "Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm going to do everything I can to make vertebrate paleontology my primary occupation."
"I don't think you're crazy." Joe thought of his own dream. For several years he had been considering opening his own business. The last of the bar patrons were leaving and by their expressions Joe could see they'd had a good time. Joe knew he had a hand in giving them that happiness and he wanted to spend more time making the music he loved.
Stan finished his drink, then grinned at Joe. "You wouldn't want to buy a rock club, would you?"
Laughing aloud, Joe said, "No, but maybe someday, I'll own a place to play a little blues."
"It's been good seeing you, Dawson." Stan slid off his stool. "Don't wait too long." He shook Joe's hand. "Before you know it, you'll be growing mold and be too old to enjoy it. Nobody lives forever."
As Stan left, Joe chuckled and spoke quietly to himself. "Some people do," Joe got to his feet, "but I'm not one of them." Thinking about what his friend had said made Joe reflect on the dual coincidence of this night. That he should be here in this bar, and meet an old friend talking about life changes didn't seem to be a chance occurrence.
Joe made a decision as he walked to the back of the club. He was not getting any younger and it was time to do something for himself for a change. It would take some time to get financing, but in the next year to eighteen months, Joe was going to have a place of his own. It would be a place where he could be himself, enjoy his music, and share that love with others. It would be a base of operations for his work with the Watchers. And it would be called, "Joe's".
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