"You're going out again." Although Eric's face was hidden by a newspaper, his voice was flat, conveying all Trevor needed to know.

"Yeah, I am. You know the routine by now." Trevor tucked his new knife neatly into a sheath hidden by his sock. He glanced at the newspaper Eric was holding, noting the trial announcement for the killer from the worst of last year's hate crimes. Trevor hoped he'd get the death penalty.

Eric sighed and set the paper aside, his eyes full of worry. "This is getting out of hand, Trevor."

"I'd say things were just starting to get in hand."

Eric frowned. "As a professional who saves lives, I have to object."

"As a non-professional who is out to save lives too, I have to do this." Trevor slid on his black gloves. "I was given this gift, Eric, I have to use it."

Eric sighed. "Sometimes I wish you hadn't been given this gift."

"I might not have, if I hadn't been walking home alone from that party."

"Don't you go there," Eric said, wagging his finger at Trevor. "You started the fight with me, if you'll recall, which is why I didn't go."

"You should have, though. We both should have been smarter; we both knew it wasn't safe. If you had just come with me to the party…"

"Then there would have been two bodies in that trash bin. And one that wouldn't have woken back up." Eric shook his head, his face darkening. "Would you have preferred to wake up next to my lifeless body? Just what would you have done while sitting next to my broken, battered corpse, Trevor?"

A chill swept through Trevor's chest, and he stared at Eric for a long moment before finding his words. "I would have wept," Trevor replied quietly.

"Would you?"

"I love you."

Eric shook his head. "Empty words when you're accusing me of causing this nightmare."

"I'm glad you weren't there." Trevor closed his eyes. "I couldn't have lived if it happened to you." He looked up at Eric. "What would you have done if they'd found me dead in the Dumpster? Or if I'd never come home?"

Eric bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't know. I guess I didn't really think about the what if. I'm glad you're alive."

"This has happened to too many people who didn't get a second chance. That's why I have to go out there."

Eric rubbed his temples. "I know, Trev. I understand what you're saying, in theory. I'm just not sure I like the person you're becoming. You're different. Meaner, sometimes." Eric gestured toward the drawer that held the cache of Trevor's weapons. "Obsessed with vengeance. It worries me."

"It'll get better. I promise." Trevor kissed Eric's forehead. "Don't wait up."

The radio caught his attention as he reached for the door: "The family of an openly gay man who was assaulted last night believe the attack was a hate crime. According to police reports, Dan Terry was severely beaten behind a local bar that has a mostly homosexual clientele. He was discovered early Wednesday morning with multiple injuries to his head and face, and remains in a coma at Seacouver General Hospital. Police are saying that until they have evidence of a motive, they cannot officially label the incident a hate crime. According to Seacouver's Gay and Lesbian Community Center, this is the third such incident in the past six months."

Fourth, Trevor thought. A knot tightened in his abdomen. More, if you counted eggs thrown, names called, the rock thrown through a window of the GLCC in broad daylight.

Trevor's skin prickled and cold swept his insides as he realized this incident had been on a night he hadn't patrolled. He'd let the community down, and resolved that it would not happen again. He'd buy that .22 he'd been eyeing, and up his patrols to daily. This attack reminded him that with his gift came a duty, one that he needed to take seriously.

The night's activity was reconnaissance, trailing the second of his three tormentors. Trevor was itching for a solid reason to get this guy. To know the man's hangouts and habits would help Trevor catch Number Two in the act. Still, Trevor patted his pocket for the lump that was his switchblade, and he flexed his calf to feel the knife sheath press into it.

Using the cover of night and of the crowd hanging around the revitalized downtown area, Trevor followed Number Two from Hanlon's Pub to The Pacifica. The guy liked his alcohol, that was for sure. Trevor was tired of shivering in the cold, bathed in neon, waiting for this guy to head for his next destination. Deciding he needed to warm up, Trevor entered the Pacifica and ordered a gin and tonic. He was carded, but Trevor had joyfully and drunkenly passed the legal age two years ago. Trevor had met Eric that night, though he hardly remembered it. Neither one of them would have guessed then that they'd still be together.

Taking a sip of his drink, Trevor scanned the wood-paneled room for his target. Number Two was sitting in the back corner, putting on macho airs with beer in hand, trying to impress a couple of young women. The women were playing coy, obviously used to the attention and used to having their pick of men. Trevor gave a half grin. Where he hung out, he was usually the one getting hit on, but it had been he who had picked up the handsome, raven-haired Eric. Too drunk to care at the time, Trevor hadn't realized just how much older Eric was, although it had never stood in their way.

Another man joined Number Two. It only took a moment for Trevor to realize it was Cliff -- Number One. Would he recognize Trevor from the dark alley, or had Trevor's face been sufficiently hidden by his scarf and the darkness? Trevor didn't want to take the chance, and he couldn't take them both on. Keeping an eye on the two men absorbed in posturing for the young women, Trevor quickly downed the last of his gin and tonic and stole outside. Trevor pushed his hands into his pockets and started to trudge home through the back alleys of Seacouver.

The sensation hit him like a baseball bat, and Trevor doubled over in pain. What the hell was going on? Was something happening to his powers? When Trevor could finally look up, he saw a man with a sword facing him.

"You're a young one yet," the man said, tilting his head. "I was waiting for a main course, but a little snack might not be bad."

Trevor furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"A Quickening," the man replied.

"I don't do quickies."

The man laughed, then narrowed his hazel eyes thoughtfully. "You don't even know what you are yet, do you?" He swung the tip of his sword in a figure eight. "That means you won't have a sword. A perfect snack." The man lunged at Trevor, who managed to throw himself to one side and avoid the blade.

"Carrigan." The female voice was authoritative, the body behind it lithe in a skin-tight leather pantsuit. She, too, carried a sword as she approached with a quick, confident stride. "Let the boy go. You wanted me, so fight me."

Carrigan took a bow. "The lady Amanda. How delightful of you to actually show up. But I think I will take my easy pickings first."

Carrigan lunged at Trevor with the sword again, but Amanda intercepted the strike with her blade. "Run, kiddo!" she shouted at Trevor as she struggled with Carrigan. "This is gonna get ugly."

For once Trevor did as he was told, but he only ran to the end of the alley, where he watched the scene from a recessed doorway. He'd only seen swordfights in films, but unlike the old movie swashbucklers, these two were hitting hard, throwing feet and elbows as well as sword blows. Trevor winced as Amanda delivered a hard kick to the groin that brought Carrigan to his knees. The woman quickly raised her sword and beheaded Carrigan. Trevor shuddered, and bile rose in his throat.

Trevor was about to run from this madwoman when the wind kicked up and lightning began to flash. With horror Trevor realized that the lightning was gravitating toward this woman and her upheld sword, a human lightning rod. He couldn't conceive of how to save her from the storm as it raged, so he only watched and waited, groping for his cell phone to call 911 -- not that it would help her much. In the next instant, the lightning receded and the woman's arms fell to her sides, but she remained standing. It wasn't possible to take a hit like that and not at least be unconscious, was it? Trevor approached her cautiously. "You okay?"

Amanda looked over her shoulder and gave a tired smile. "I thought I told you to run, kiddo."

"I got out of the way, didn't I?"

She laughed as she tried to recover her breath. "Yeah, I guess you did. What's your name?"

Trevor paused, unsure how much to tell this woman. "Trevor."

"Well, Trevor, you've never seen anything like that before, have you?" Trevor shook his head. "So Carrigan was right, you are new at this."

Trevor furrowed his brow. "At what?"

"Never been taught to swordfight?"

"Uh, no."

"Then you really don't know what you are."

Trevor tilted his head. His eyes widened as the realization struck him. "You're like me, aren't you? You can stick a knife through your hand and it heals instantly."

Amanda shuddered. "Not that I'd do that, but yeah, I could. But there's a lot more to Immortality than that." She pursed her lips. "Why don't you come with me, and I'll start filling you in."

Trevor narrowed his eyes at her, contemplating. This could be very important -- or very dangerous. He had seen her behead someone else, after all, even if that person had been trying to hurt Trevor. "I'm expected at home."

"Live with your parents?" Amanda asked with a smirk.

"No."

"Ah. Well, why don't you come see me tomorrow, then, when you have a chance." She scribbled an address on a discarded piece of paper from a nearby trash bin.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"Well aren't you smart." Amada gave him a full smile this time. "You might actually have a chance of surviving." She tilted her head. "We could meet somewhere neutral, but we really need some privacy to talk about this. It isn't something the whole world should know about."

"Swing by my place. Ten too early?" Eric would be home then, and Trevor would have his entire arsenal at his disposal.

"Fine." Amanda took down the address. "Can I bring a friend?"

"Are they like us?"

"Yes."

"And they won't behead me or anything like that?" Trevor nodded to the headless body in the alley.

Amanda laughed and shook her head. "No. I can guarantee that neither of us will be interested in that." She straightened up. "Scout's honor." Amanda nodded toward the body. "I'd better take care of that while I can, and you should be scooting home. See you in the morning."

Trevor stared after the woman as she walked toward the body, then shook his head in disbelief and headed for home.

Trevor stood by the window in classic TV cop stance, .22 held in both hands -- a feat considering the small size of the revolver -- with the muzzle next to his cheek. Eric was across the room, leaning against the bedroom door frame and rolling his eyes. "If you're that afraid of them, then don't open the damned door."

"Just protecting myself." Trevor's guts had quivered strongly even before he'd glanced outside. The woman was at the door, with friend, as promised. The tall man with dark hair and eyes looked familiar. With a guy that good looking, why couldn't he place the face? "Remember, if anything happens, run."

"Where?" Eric gestured to the doors next to and behind him. "Nowhere to get out back here. I could lock myself in the bathroom or the bedroom, but somehow I think swords could be used to get through the door."

"They don't look armed."

"Maybe they pull the swords out of their butts. Will you just open the door already?"

Trevor tucked the .22 in his waistband, hand still resting on the grip, and opened the door. Amanda's eyes took him in head to toe. "Alert, defensive...good. It's a start, anyway." She gestured to the man accompanying her. "This is Duncan MacLeod."

The face had finally clicked into place. "You own DeSalvo's Martial Arts." Trevor shook Duncan's hand. "I've been in there a couple of times. Good place to work out."

"Thanks." The man's eyes darted around the room, briefly resting on Eric. "Who's he?"

"This is my friend, Eric. Eric, this is Amanda...er..."

"Just Amanda, to most people." She smiled slyly. "Nice to meet you, Eric. I hate to be rude, honey, but this is going to be sort of a private conversation."

"I'm here for moral support." Eric crossed his arms over his chest. "And I have a right to know what's going on with Trevor, too."

"Ah. I see." Amanda looked between Eric and Trevor, and seemed to come to the correct conclusion. "I guess we should sit down and get started, then."

Trevor ushered his guests to the sofa. Eric sat in the chair to Amanda's left, and Trevor nervously perched on the arm of the chair. "So what is all this? Why am I unkillable?"

"Let me start with a question." Amanda folded her hands and leaned forward. "Were you adopted?"

"Yeah." Trevor recalled his mother's remark about having gotten a "tainted" baby from the agency because no real son of hers could have turned out like him. A chill ran down his back. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"All Immortals are foundlings."

"Immortals?" Trevor liked the sound of that. "Like, invincible?"

"Not quite. As you saw last night." Amanda sighed. "Here come the big concepts, honey, so brace yourself. Immortals are born into this world to play something we call The Game. Each fight and win brings us closer to The Prize."

"And I take it that's not a trip to Disneyland."

"No." Amanda smiled wanly. "Hardly. More like an incredible amount of power. But that's far in the future yet. You've got to survive the starter rounds first. And that means beheading opponents, which means learning sword work."

Trevor puckered his lips thoughtfully. "So if the deal is to behead other Immortals, why are you telling me all this? Why haven't you just beheaded me?"

"Partly because we're just goddamned good guys." Amanda grinned. "Partly because it's tradition. Elders teach youth."

"You're not much my elders."

Amanda laughed. "Duncan's over four hundred years old, and I, well..." She smirked. "A lady never reveals her age; I'll admit I'm older than he is, and we'll leave it at that. You know that little thing about healing fast?" Trevor nodded. "You also won't age."

"Wow." Trevor pondered for a long moment the idea of never looking older than twenty-three. "And I can't die?"

"Not unless you get beheaded. Which, if you train with Duncan here, you might be able to prevent."

Trevor furrowed his brow. "Why not you?"

"Duncan's a better teacher." Amanda winked and added, "I think you might pay more attention to him too." Trevor turned a light shade of red. "When did you first notice you were Immortal, Trevor?"

"When I woke up in a Dumpster after being beaten to death."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Beaten to death?"

Trevor nodded. "Somebody didn't like me because I'm different." He cleared his throat. "Because I'm gay."

"Unbelievable." Duncan shook his head.

"Happens more often than you think." Trevor shrugged one shoulder. "It seems like more and more people out there are deciding it's okay and fun to beat or knife to death someone they feel is evil or less than human."

"It's an unfair judgment."

Trevor nodded. "And a deadly one. But I've started taking a little revenge."

Duncan narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Just doing a little stalking and hunting of my own."

The blood drained from Duncan's face. "Have you killed anyone?"

"Nah." Trevor shrugged. "Just passing on some threats. Giving them a scare. No big deal."

Amanda shook her head. "Picking on those who are weaker or less well-armed is a pretty cowardly thing to do."

Trevor stiffened. "I have every right to go after the bastards who came after me."

Amanda frowned. "Stooping to their level. How very mature of you."

"Nothing else will stop them. It's pure justice."

"You're out for vengeance, not justice." Duncan leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose as he furrowed his brow. "There's a world of difference, Trevor. It's too easy to justify your actions by saying you want what's right -- it's the same way they justified their attack on you." Duncan locked eyes with Trevor. "It's more difficult, but better in the long run, to remain noble when faced with something like this."

"I'd rather be effective than noble."

Duncan sighed with exasperation. "Listen to me, Trevor. As an Immortal, you will spend enough of your life killing people because you have no choice. When you start enjoying the hunt and the kill, then you become the evil you're trying to fight."

"Don't lecture me. You don't know..."

"I know all about vengeance. And the consequences are devastating, Trevor. Trust me." Duncan sighed deeply, and Amanda reached over and squeezed his hand.

Trevor frowned and bit his lip. What did Duncan know about all this, anyway? He didn't know what Trevor had been through. Trevor glanced down at Eric, who had been keeping quiet, but all he got in return was an "I told you so" look. Tired of arguing, Trevor decided to drop the subject. "So, what about this training?"

"Do you think you're ready?"

"Yeah, I do."

Duncan nodded. "We'll start tomorrow. Bring your sneakers and comfortable clothes to the dojo. Morning okay?"

"Yeah. My work shift doesn't start till 2."

Duncan eyed him; Trevor could see by Duncan's expression that he wasn't meeting Duncan's standards. "Just be prepared to work out."

"If you don't get up, you're gonna be dead."

The chill of the wood floor against Trevor's back felt kind of nice, and he was sore enough at the moment that he didn't want to move. "So kill me already," Trevor replied as he laced his hands behind his head. Trevor's eyes flew open as Duncan pressed the tip of his sword to Trevor's throat.

"Bad attitude to take." Duncan paused for a long moment before lifting his sword. "You're lucky I'm the one teaching you." Duncan nodded toward the locker room as he walked toward the elevator. "We're done for the day. Go clean up."

Even though Trevor knew Duncan was straighter than an arrow and probably sleeping with Amanda, he couldn't help but admire Duncan's physique, as well as the tuft of hair showing from his shirt, the fuzzy knuckles….Trevor sat up before his admiration started to show too much. Amanda had been right, he paid more attention to Duncan; but whether he actually paid attention to the lessons was debatable.

Trevor hit the showers. When he emerged, Duncan was back in street clothes. "I don't suppose you have money for a sword." Trevor shook his head. "Then you might need this." Duncan handed Trevor a weapon that looked like it came out of a Three Musketeers movie. Briefly Duncan showed him the secret of concealing it in his coat. "I wouldn't suggest you go confronting any Immortals just yet," Duncan warned. "But it's good for you to have this, just in case. Still, my best advice to you if you run into another Immortal is to run like hell."

"Yeah." Trevor looked at the sword in his hand; he'd been practicing with a similar weapon all morning, but it still felt awkward. "That was kind of my plan already."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."