"A Sea of Fate".
Paula Stiles 
<thesnowleopardAhotmail.com>

Summary: Joe and Methos find themselves chasing each 
other's dopplegangers on the streets of Paris. Part 
twelve of the "Armed Intervention" series.

Disclaimer: Don't own the universe. Not making any money 
off of it. Davis/Panzer Productions, Rysher 
Entertainment, and Gaumont Television do that. Don't 
bother to sue me. I'm poor. I don't own Bon Jovi's "Keep 
the Faith" or the title song from "Cabaret", either.

This, and my other stories, can be found at: 

http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/Andes/3071/arch.html

Or, as part of the Armed Intervention series at:

http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/Andes/3071/arch.html

Archive: Sure. Just ask first.

Many thanks to Judith Hill for betareading this for me.




A SEA OF FATE, PART FOUR

     Hours later, she watched him sleep in her bed. She 
lay facing him, propped up on one elbow, brushing his 
hair from his face as she had before. He slept heavily, 
exhausted by the day. She had barely got him home and 
undressed before he collapsed.

     *You are a fool. He's an Immortal. Whatever debt you 
owed him for his saving your life you repayed when you 
murdered those men in the woods. Haven't you compromised 
yourself enough for him?* It was the voice of the 
Tribunal. She had never stood before one, but her father 
had. And if she continued down this road with this man, 
she might well, too. What she was doing went so far 
beyond "interference", it barely fit the term.

     *He will get you killed, and centuries from now, all 
you will be is a good story that he likes to tell about 
his travels and his conquests. That's all.* Now, it was 
the sad voice of Dr. Rene Galbon.

     *He murdered your mother and he will murder you. 
Kill him now before he gets the chance.* That would be 
the voice of her long-dead uncle, James Horton. She had 
heard him once, when her mother took her to a Watcher 
function full of stuffy and darkly serious people. Joe 
had been there. Her mother sat in the anteroom, clutching 
Amy's hand, staring out at Joe and Horton. Amy could 
barely see them through the shifting bodies, but she 
could hear Horton quite clearly as he laughed and joked. 
Even at age nine, she knew a man who liked to be heard.

     "Who is that, Mummy?" Amy had asked her, pointing at 
him.

     Her mother chewed on her lip--debating, no doubt. 
"The man with the cane is Joe Dawson. He is an historian 
with whom your mummy worked once. And the man talking to 
him is his brother-in-law, James Horton." Shortly after 
that, her mother had taken Amy home. Eleanor Thomas was 
not one to attend parties. Amy wondered now--had her 
mother come there solely to introduce Amy to Joe and 
bottled out in the end?

     *Sometimes, Amy, dear, you have to take a risk,* and 
now it was her mother, *even when you know it will all 
turn out badly.* Amy lay down face to face with 
Ben...Methos. He was Methos, and all that meant. She 
could not win through this unless she opened her eyes to 
what she was doing. She pillowed her head on his 
outstretched arm. When he sighed and moved against her in 
his sleep, she did not move away.

*********

     I don't want to wake up. If I lie still under this 
comforter, I can pretend that I am warm and safe and that 
my dream of getting laid last night was true. Then, a 
lorry rattles past outside, jolting me half-awake. Damn. 
Eyes closed, I try to snuggle further into the comforter 
and discover that I am wrapped around someone, a naked 
someone, even warmer and softer than a blanket. My face 
is buried in the soft down of the back of her neck. I 
breathe in and smell her shampoo--something sharp and 
citrus-like. Wow. This is some dream.

     Whoever she is stirs and stretches underneath me, 
grumbling to herself, and I wake up a bit more, stirring 
myself. I keep expecting her to disappear in the rush of 
waking to the unpleasant reality that is morning, but she 
doesn't.

     I remember a slow, relaxed grapple in the middle of 
the night, face to face, her leg hooked over my back. I 
was inside her so long, I kept falling asleep, but she 
didn't seem to mind. I even got her name right this time, 
exhausted though I was. And before that we were going at 
it in a bar...Joe's bar.
     
     I fell asleep in the car, gobsmacked by a hideous 
day ending in a post-coital glow. Amy had to shake me 
awake to get me up and out of the car. We stumbled up to 
her apartment, me leaning on her with my head on her 
shoulder and her arm under me, supporting me. Heaven help 
me, I am in bed with Amy Thomas. How the Hell did that 
happen?

     While my hindbrain fills me on the sultry details 
(as many as I can remember) Amy rolls over in my arms to 
face me. Now, that makes my gonads sit up and say 
'Howdy!' Nothing wrong with this five-thousand-year-old 
plumbing. I keep struggling to remember why this is not a 
good situation, but damned if I can prevail under these 
conditions. I feel her breath on my face, smell a not-so-
faint scent of musk. "Are you planning to get up at all 
today or are you going to sleep until the sun goes down?" 
she says.

     "You say that like it's a bad thing." As long as I 
keep my eyes closed, I can keep the spell. I can pretend 
that it can last. And I don't have to deal with any 
consequences. "Can't we just stay here a little while 
longer?" I open my eyes. 

     She doesn't reply at first, not in so many words. 
Smiling slyly, she slips a hand down my belly. I do love 
how she thinks. As I roll over on top of her, she says, 
"Yes."

*********

     Rene slept on the couch until noon, knocked out by 
the sedative Joe gave him after they got back from 
looking for Methos. The squeaking of Joe's wheelchair 
woke him. He lifted his head, relieved by the lack of 
vertigo, then sat up, pulling the comforter around his 
shoulders. Joe was talking on his cellphone in the 
kitchen.

     "Adam's in pretty good hands at the moment, I think, 
but I'm worried about Rene. He was really out of it last 
night.... You want me to do that? I can call somebody to 
drive us up. You think he'll agree...? Yeah, he told me 
that. Okay. I'll tell him. Thanks. 'Bye."

     "Was that Leah Kwan?" Rene asked, sitting up as Joe 
rolled out to the couch.

     "Your therapist? Yeah." Joe turned off his phone and 
dropped it in his lap with a sigh. "She wants you to come 
up to the hospital for a couple of days. How are you 
feeling?"

     Rene closed his eyes. "How did you put it? 'Out of 
it'."

     "Still?" Joe sounded concerned.

    "Yes. But not so dizzy this morning. You said that 
Adam was all right?"

     Joe nodded. "I got a little brainstorm after we got 
back. Decided to call Amy at the bar. She said he'd gone 
there and she checked him into a hotel."     

     Rene watched Joe, who stared guilelessly back at 
him. Rene did not believe that Amy had sent Methos 
anywhere. But he did not think that Joe believed it 
either, so he said nothing about it. It didn't matter if 
this mad liaison amoureuse was a bad idea in the long 
run. If Amy could keep Methos safe for now, that would 
have to be enough. Rene was too tired to do it himself. 
He bowed his head. "I have really screwed up, haven't I?"

     "Not any more than the rest of us, I guess." Joe's 
voice was gentler than Rene had expected. Perhaps Leah 
had explained things to him. She would want to do that 
for Rene. "Look, I'm not gonna blow smoke up your ass and 
say it's fine. You and I both know that trashing your 
Watcher oath as badly as you used to do ain't no small 
thing. You'd get a tribunal and a bullet in your head if 
anybody found out about you. Hell, I could get the same 
thing for not reporting you. But it was also a long time 
ago and you're obviously not a Hunter any more...." Joe 
paused. Rene opened his eyes and looked at him. Joe was 
scratching his beard, looking conflicted. "Truth is, 
Rene, if you were looking for somebody with the higher 
moral ground to judge you, Methos and I are the last two 
guys who could fit the bill, even if he is too pissed off 
and scared of you right now to think about that." He eyed 
Rene. "Just tell me one thing; Does Gabrieli know?"

     Rene nodded. "Yes. Enough of it. He has no wish to 
expose me; he feels that the organisation has been 
disrupted enough. He knows of the tape, though he has 
never seen it. We assumed Croft had it. Where is it now?" 
he asked suspiciously, looking around. He couldn't 
remember seeing it since Methos had played it for him.

     "I dunno. Methos hid it somewhere in here. I'll look 
for it later. Or he may just tell me when he's cooled 
down." Joe considered Rene again, looking disgusted. "You 
got my daughter involved in this, didn't you?"

     Rene ducked his head, unable to look Joe in the eye 
when he told him the truth. "You and Adam had left town. 
There was...no one else in the organisation whom I could 
trust. She was very willing to help, once I showed her 
certain photographs which I had found in Croft's office."

     "You mean the ones showing me shooting my brother-
in-law?" Rene looked up, startled, then expelled a laugh, 
shaking his head.

     "She showed them to you?" he said. Joe nodded. "And 
you destroyed them?" Joe nodded again. Of course he had. 
He was no fool. "Good. They could be as bad for your 
health as that tape was for me. Harold Croft was a very 
dangerous man."

     "No shit." Joe pulled something out of the pocket in 
his chair, a journal. "Have you seen this?"

    Feeling sour, Rene nodded. "Yes. You received that, 
too? Gabrieli was supposed to keep it safe. I found it at 
Croft's apartment. His concierge, that absinthe-brewing 
bitch, must have retrieved it and sent it to you." If he 
ever found her, he would kill her for nearly making his 
Mathilde an orphan.

     "I don't think she would have done that on her own, 
Rene," Joe said, echoing Rene's own suspicions about the 
woman.

     Rene snorted bitterly. "Non. I suppose you are 
right. Harold Croft has a very long reach, even from the 
grave, it seems."

     "Yeah. So I heard." Joe fished in his pocket and 
pulled out a familiar-looking pill bottle. "Your shrink 
wanted me to make sure you take your meds today." He 
shook out the pills and handed them over to Rene. "You 
want some water?"

     Rene cradled the pills in his hand, beginning to 
understand his patient's dislike of them, and shook his 
head. "I can get a glass. Don't trouble yourself." He 
noticed Joe's unease. "Leah...she wants me to stay at the 
hospital for now, yes? As a patient?"

     "Uh, yeah, she does." Joe squirmed, and Rene's heart 
sank at the false hope in the man's eyes. When would Joe 
ever learn? "Look, Amy and I can keep an eye on Methos 
while you're gone. You both could probably use the break 
from each other, anyway. And when you come back, I'll bet 
he'll have cooled down enough that you two can talk. He's 
not one to carry a grudge." No, Methos could not have 
survived five thousand years with that kind of 
vindictiveness in his soul.

     Rene sighed. "Joseph, he is still very ill. But 
unfortunately, so am I. Leah is right. We both need a 
rest. But if he becomes too ill before I get back, you 
must take him up to Reims yourself and check him into the 
hospital." Joe looked down. "I need to know that you can 
do that, if it becomes necessary."

     "Yeah. Yeah, okay." Joe rubbed the side of his face. 
"Hopefully, it won't come to that, but if it does, I'll 
do what I have to do." He looked at Rene. "I'll take care 
of things on this end. You concentrate on getting well. 
You can't help him if you're as messed up as he is." And 
with that, Rene had to agree.

*********

     "You must find some way to distract Adam, to keep 
him in Paris," Rene said. "He is under a great deal of 
strain. If he feels unsafe, he will run." They were in 
the car, on their way to Reims. Dr. Davani had offered to 
drive. She was going to take care of Joe while Rene was 
in hospital and Methos was doing whatever Methos was 
doing. Perhaps Joe would have some good luck this week, 
as well. Rene thought of Martine and felt sad. He had 
hoped to visit her, as soon as things had calmed down 
with Methos. That would not happen now. Not for some 
time. He had only himself to blame. Leah would want to 
call her, explain things to her, perhaps even have her 
visit. He would have to ask Leah not to do that. He did 
not want Martine to see him the way he was now. Their 
bargain did not include "In sickness". He wasn't sure 
about Mathilde. He could always meet her outside in the 
garden. She was young enough not to understand what kind 
of hospital Ste Agnes was.

     "Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Joe said from 
the front seat. "And I've got an idea." Rene felt sick 
when he heard that. Joe's ideas were beginning to 
frighten him.

     "Oh?" The drugs were making him care less than he 
should have, but he forced himself to concentrate on Joe.

     "I'm having a little blues concert on Valentine's 
Day. Been planning it for months. I thought maybe I could 
get Adam to sing with me. He doesn't have a bad voice, 
and he's a little too old to have stage fright. He did 
claim that he'd been on the same stage as the Rolling 
Stones, once. I thought it would be a good excuse for him 
to stick around."

     Rene sighed. His head ached and he felt dizzy and 
low, despite his medication. "Joe, it is a commendable 
idea, but how can it work? Adam has the attention span of 
a goat right now and he has just quit the Zoloft. It will 
only get worse as his withdrawal symptoms increase. You 
are asking him to concentrate on a project at a time when 
he will scarcely be able to concentrate on getting out of 
bed in the morning."

     "I didn't say it was a perfect solution; I said it 
was *a* solution. I mean, yeah, he's a pain in the ass, 
but he's a pretty loyal pain in the ass. It's a month 
away. He won't take off before then, especially not with 
Amy watching him." Rene trusted Joe meant that with a 
small 'w'. "It'll give us time to see if he does crumble. 
He might not, you know."

     Rene stared out the window at the countryside. It 
was lovely out here, even in winter. "Joe, I would love 
to be wrong about this, but I doubt that I am. You must 
watch over him very carefully. I think you will find him 
more unpredictable even than usual, more so than you seem 
to expect."

     Joe wasn't buying it. "It's the best I can do right 
now. He's not gonna go back into the hospital, not until 
he trusts you again, Rene. You're just gonna have to live 
with that."

     "Do you know how long you have to stay in hospital?" 
Dr. Davani asked before Rene could come up with a retort 
to that. Despite his annoyance, Rene was grateful that 
she was such a gentle driver. It would have been a most 
pleasant trip, were he not so worried about Methos, and 
so angry with Joe.

     "I am afraid that is not up to me, Madame. You will 
have to ask my own doctor, Leah Kwan." He closed his 
eyes. "I suppose it depends on how much I can sleep in 
the next week or so. Until then, we must rely on the 
wisdom of Joseph and his daughter--and their 'plans'. And 
hope that your student still has the sense left to stay 
where he has friends."

*********

     Horton is enjoying his triumph, the son of a bitch. 
I don't want to give him the satisfaction, but after that 
car chase through Paris, I can barely stand. When his 
creature, Rene Galbon, offers me a seat, I take it. I'm 
even almost grateful for it. Bastard.

     They shot Jacques as soon as he tried to get out of 
the car. They got me out and down on the pavement. I 
didn't even get in a shot, let alone take any of them 
down. They wanted me alive and that's how they got me. 
God only knows why.

     Behind Horton is a wall clock over the door--faded, 
yellow border, daisies on the white face. Happier days. 
The clock says quarter to twelve. In the hot, still room, 
the only sound is the ticking of the damned thing. I wish 
I could smash it.

     I'm not sure who is worse, Horton or his genies. He 
has some seriously scary people on his side--people with 
nothing to lose and no emotions left but hate. I guess, 
even if the Hunters hadn't tried to kill Methos, they 
would have ended up with him as the enemy. I want to side 
with the humans, but you know, I'm not sure I'd call 
Horton and his merry Hunters human anymore.

     Horton smiles, that smug look he always gets when he 
knows he's pulled one over on me. "Hello, Joe. Long 
time."

     "Not long enough," I mutter to myself. I wait for 
Galbon to smack me in the head for my insubordination, 
but he's not the type. No, he'll be courteous right up to 
the end. He just stands there next to me, hands clasped 
in front of him, mirror shades revealing nothing at all. 
No emotion. He almost looks like an Immortal, himself. 
They say Methos murdered his daughter. Guess we have 
something in common then. Not that it'll help me when he 
puts a bullet in the back of my head for "betraying" the 
cause.

     "Your people put up a good fight, Joe. I'll give 
them that. Wherever did you put those chronicles? The 
older ones?" Horton is pulling on a set of gloves. "They 
could have been so useful for finding more old ones like 
Methos and Kronos."

     Now, there's a big irony. I hid them in the bar, in 
the back room. Trust Methos to raid the place while 
Horton was chasing me all over Paris. Jacques and I found 
my office ripped apart when we ducked back there for 
extra ammunition. The sick fuck could have sneaked in and 
out without our noticing, but he wanted us to know, 
wanted me to know. It's like Death and I are locked in 
some sort of nosedive together. I try to worry enough 
about Methos having those chronicles to tell Horton what 
happened. After all, the crazy son of a bitch did kill 
his own student for failing to kill me. On the other 
hand, the Horsemen are a lot more wrapped up in taking 
over Europe's crime syndicates, one by one, than in 
hunting other Immortals, at least for now. Hell, the 
chronicles might be safer with them.

    "Doesn't seem to me like you've had any trouble 
finding those two," I snap. "You just don't seem to know 
what to do with them now you've found them." 

     Horton snickers. Galbon doesn't so much as twitch. 
"Too true. You always did have a sharp tongue, brother-
in-law. Never mind now." He turns away. "I'll tell you 
what, Joe. I've decided to let you go. I've neutralised 
all your people, the Council will vote with me. And yet, 
I cannot hate you. You only did what you thought was 
right, like me. And without your eyes and ears...your 
legs, you're no threat to me." He turns back. "Unless 
you'd care to join me."

     I spit at him. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather join 
the Horsemen."

     Horton smiles, and damn, is it ice cold. "If I 
thought you truly meant that, I'd have Rene here snap 
your neck right now. But I know you don't." Now, the 
smile turns sharp as a sword. "Because I'm not the one 
who murdered your poor daughter, now, am I?" And then he 
and Galbon leave. I'm no threat to them. I'm no threat to 
anybody anymore.

     "Joe?" I woke up with my head against cold glass. I 
was in a car and it was moving. I lifted my head. Azar 
was driving, giving me worried looks.

     "Hey," I said, softening my voice just for her. 
"What time is it?"

     "Two thirty," she replied. "We should be back at 
Adam's apartment within an hour. Do you want to stay 
there?"

     "Yeah." I sighed. I'd been staying at your apartment 
so long, I'd just about decided to give up on mine. If 
the Watchers weren't paying for it and I hadn't been 
living there so long, I just might have done it anyway. 
Amy has talked about taking it over for me. Amy...damn. 
What was I gonna do about that? "Yeah, we'd better. I 
gotta feed the cat and Adam might come back." I sat up, 
rubbing my face and yawning. I stretched as much as I 
could in the car. My hand landed on Azar's headrest. I 
let it slip down to her shoulder and knead her neck a 
bit; it was hard as a rock. She smiled sheepishly and let 
her head tip forward. I don't think she'd admit to being 
real enamoured of driving, if I asked her to be honest 
about it.

     "You mind when I do that?" I said, rubbing her neck 
some more.

     "Oh, no. I get very tense when I drive. It makes my 
neck so stiff." She hunched forward, gripping the wheel, 
keeping her eyes on the road. It was raining out and I 
think that worried her. It usually worries me. "What are 
you going to do about Adam?"

     "What do you mean?" I said, avoiding the issue like 
crazy.

     She looked disgusted. "You know what I mean. Adam is 
ill, far more ill than Dr. Galbon. So, why is Dr. Galbon 
in Ste Agnes and Adam is out...wherever?"

     "He's with Amy." I just tossed that out. I dunno. 
Maybe I thought Azar could help me with that little 
dilemma.

     She glanced at me. "Do you know what that means?"

     I shrugged, letting my hand drop back to the seat. 
"I dunno. Depends on what you think it means."

     "I think that they are in love." I usually admired 
the way she got to the point, but not today. "I think 
that they have spent the night together, in bed." She 
shook her head. "I was married once. I have a child old 
enough for university. I do know what two people in love 
look like." Wow. She was a mother? Since when? I waited 
for her to volunteer more information about either the 
husband or the kid, but she didn't say anything else. 
Guess I'd have to wait on that.

   "They look like us." I winced, a little appalled at 
what I had just said. It's not the usual way you tell 
somebody, "I love you" the first time, but she didn't 
take offense, just looked thoughtful.

     "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I suppose they do."

     I blew out a breath, feeling stupid and frustrated. 
"Amy is a grown-up. So is Adam, appearances 
notwithstanding. Doesn't matter if she's my daughter or 
not. If they want to spend the next week in bed and shag 
like wild bunny rabbits, there isn't a damned thing I can 
do about it that wouldn't drive both of them away."

     She nodded, her thoughtful look turning to sadness. 
"No, there is not. But if we do nothing, others will, and 
they may still run away."

     "Maybe we should try to keep this under wraps for 
now," I said, trying not to think about what Gabrieli 
would think about this. Maybe Rene had done you an even 
bigger favour than I'd realised, killing Croft. Croft 
would have gone after her, my sweet girl. Yeah, I guess 
Croft's days had been numbered, after all. There is no 
way I would have let him hurt Amy, no matter how big a 
friend of yours he was.

     "I agree," Azar said. "But for now, I am going to 
take you home and feed you. You need a meal and a nap." 
Practical woman. It was probably why I loved her.

*********

     "We should probably keep this quiet, for now," Amy 
said, as she and Ben snuggled up on her couch together. 
She'd always seen her couch as too big; now, she was 
silently cursing its less-than-ample size. Not that Ben 
showed any sign of minding the fact that she had to lie 
on top of him to keep from falling off.

     Ben sipped his coffee, frowning, then set it back 
down on the floor next to the couch. He had made them 
both breakfast. He wasn't what she'd call a gourmet cook, 
but he certainly knew how to whip up scrambled eggs and 
hash browns. She was feeling full and a bit drowsy now. 
She had no wish to get up and go anywhere, let alone to 
go confess to her father that she was sleeping with his 
best friend. She could feel Ben's body, warm and smooth 
through the tatty bathrobe she had lent him for while he 
laundered his clothes in her washer and dryer. She didn't 
think he had an ounce of extra fat on him. The cloth was 
thinner than she remembered and the robe was much too 
short for his height. 

     "I don't like sneaking around," Ben said.

     She almost laughed. It was exactly the opposite of 
how most saw him. "I know, but I'd like some time to get 
used to this before I have to explain it to anyone in the 
Watchers--or Joe."

     "Joe?" he sounded puzzed. "Why would you put off 
telling Joe?"

     She rubbed her head against his collarbone. "He's 
not going to be very happy when he finds out we're 
together. He won't throw us a party, love."

     "Don't underestimate your father. He doesn't go 
stomping around in other people's lives; he won't in 
yours or mine, either." He stroked her hair. "But he'll 
want to know. He deserves the truth and he would be much 
angrier if we keep this from him. Better to tell him now 
and have it out with him. He will cool down much faster 
in the long run."

     "I suppose so." She stretched out on top of him. He 
shifted under her and sighed. She chuckled. "Why, Ben, 
risen to the occasion again?"

     He rolled his eyes. "Woman, you will be the death of 
me. I just cooked you breakfast and before that I washed 
your back for you in the shower."

     "And other spots," she murmured, undoing the tie on 
his robe. "But I think you missed a few."

     "Oh?" he smiled evilly. "Does that mean I have to do 
it all over again?" He began to unbutton her blouse as 
she pulled back the collar of his--her--robe. "Well, by 
all means, show me what I missed...."



*********



     She was still worried, though, as they walked into 
Le Blues Bar four hours later. It was six o'clock and the 
joint was jumping, as Joe would put it. Ben pushed the 
door open for her, then followed her in. In his jeans, 
sweatshirt and long coat, the shortsword she had given 
him sheathed inside, he seemed like a great hawk on her 
arm, hooded and calmed, yet still alert. 

     The new kid was on. He seemed to be doing all right. 
He came over when he saw her come in. "Joe is out back," 
he said. "He wanted you to go see him after you came in."

     "Merci, Jacques." She tried to sound cheerful, but 
she was shaking when they headed out through the curtain. 
Ben squeezed her arm reassuringly as they came into the 
office, and she felt grateful. He wouldn't run out on 
her, at least.

     Joe looked up as Amy and Ben walked in. "Hi," he 
said. His face was very neutral.

     "Hi, Dad." Amy tried for a weak smile and wave. Ben 
was even less forthcoming.

     "Joe," he said, and nothing more. It occurred to her 
that Ben had not gone into much detail about the previous 
night. Her father looked, if anything, tired not angry, 
and worried.

     "Have a seat, you two," he said, and wheeled his 
chair around. Amy perched on the couch. Ben sat right 
next to her, their thighs touching, and put his large 
hand on her knees. She took it in both of hers. Honesty 
was the best policy, here. Or so Ben had said, and he had 
been down this road more often than she had. She would 
have to trust him on this.

     "So," Joe said, looking at Ben. "I take it you 
didn't go to a hotel last night."

     The silence stretched out between them. She kept 
trying to think of something to say, and failed. "Joe," 
Ben said finally, "It just happened. It wasn't...it 
didn't have anything to do with last night."

     "It's true," Amy backed him up. "It just...the 
opportunity just came up then, I think. We were already 
thinking about it."

     Joe shook his head. "I guess that depends on what 
either of you thinks last night was all about." He 
sighed. "Never mind. It happened. The timing really sucks 
here, guys, I gotta tell you that. I don't think either 
of you is in any kind of shape for what happens next. 
Neither one of you is operating in a vacuum here. The 
Watchers are bound to get involved, whether you want them 
to or not and you two can barely keep your heads above 
water as it is. Believe me, I know what I'm talking 
about." He stared straight at Amy. She thought of her 
mother and swallowed down a painful lump. Joe looked 
away, rubbed his thigh distractedly. "But I still love 
you both. If you want my blessing, then you've got it, 
for what it's worth."

     "It's worth a lot," Ben said, his voice rough. 

     Amy nodded, herself. When she could speak, she said, 
"Thank you, D-Dad."

    Joe looked touched at the reciprocal acknowledgment. 
"You're welcome. Both of you." He rubbed his face. "Ben, 
can you, um, go help Jacques for five minutes while I 
talk with Amy?" Next to her, Ben shifted uneasily. "Don't 
leave the bar. Please. I just need to talk to her for a 
little bit. Five minutes. Okay?"

     "All right." Ben's voice still sounded rusty. He 
brought Amy's hands to his lips and kissed them, then 
disengaged himself, got up and left. She forced herself 
not to watch him go out, even when he hesitated at the 
door. He would come back. Of course he would come back.

     "Honey, come here." She looked at Joe--her father--
who held out his arms. She went to him, bending over to 
hug him in the chair. Then, she did something she had 
never done with her mother's husband. She knelt down and 
laid her head on his lap. It didn't matter that it was 
awkward, or that she could feel clearly where the Army 
doctors had cut off his legs. She just did it.

     "I'm sorry, Joe," she said.

     "Don't be." He stroked her hair. "Even at his worst, 
he's probably the best you'll find in this lifetime. I 
saw him with Alexa. I know what he's like when he's in 
love. I just never expected to see him like that, again. 
And Hell, he makes *you* just bloom. I don't think you 
have any idea how happy you look. He's gonna have to beat 
off all his rivals with a baseball bat." He sighed again, 
slumping in his chair. "But this won't be easy, honey. 
He's really sick and you just lost your mother." Amy 
squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back the ache of 
tears. "You've been doing everything you can not to think 
about that; I can tell. You gotta have time and space to 
grieve, and I'm just not sure you'll get that when Ben 
starts to fall apart."

     "He's okay," she lied. "He's getting better. And Dr. 
Galbon can help him now that he's left hospital."

     "Not right now, he can't. Dr. Davani and I just 
drove Rene back up to the hospital a couple of hours 
ago."

     Amy lifted her head and stared up at her father. 
"He's abandoning Ben? But...I know that you and he and 
Ben had some sort of fight, but he's a doctor. Surely, 
he's professional enough to deal with it."

     Joe looked sad. "Honey, Rene's in the hospital, 
himself. He had...um...well, both he and Ben had 
flashbacks last night. Ben tried to kill me and when Rene 
woke up, he kinda overreacted and tried to kill Ben."

     "He shot him. I know. Ben told me." She shivered at 
the thought of Ben trying to murder her father. She 
should have known Ben was giving her the Edited-for-
Television version of the tale.

     "Yeah...and then, he went after Ben with a sword." 
Joe looked grim.

     She stared at him in disbelief, then sagged and 
closed her eyes. "Yes. That would be how Ben lost his 
sword."

     "Something like that, yeah. Needless to say, it 
freaked Rene out. Ben kinda shoved that video in his face 
once we got home last night and you could say that Rene 
had a pretty bad delayed reaction to it. I think he's 
scared to death he might turn Hunter again.
So, we're on our own, for the next couple of days. 
They're gonna send somebody down for the weekend--Rene's 
therapist. But she's booked up until the end of the 
week."

     She bowed her head. "You want me to help you take 
care of him until then? What do you want me to do?"

     He stroked the side of her face. "Just...be gentle. 
And try to help him be as healthy as he can manage. I'm 
gonna try to get him to keep taking his meds. Can you 
help me with that?"

     She snorted. "He'll be dead set against that, you 
know."

     "I know. I think I might be able to talk him into 
it. But I can't do it unless you back me up. Are you okay 
with that?"

     One part of her rebelled--the part that wanted to 
pretend that everything was just fine, by God, and why 
make oneself miserable with all these silly stages of 
grief? The other part of her, the part that was awakening 
to Ben, that would do anything to keep him safe, knew 
better. "Not really. But you're right and I'll help you 
with whatever you need to do."

     "Amy...." He cupped her face and turned it up to 
him. There were tears in his eyes; she wasn't the only 
one grieving for her mother, or worried about Ben. 
"That'll probably come to you having to persuade him to 
go back into the hospital. Unless I can talk him into it 
or he's willing to do it himself, which is pretty damned 
unlikely, you're gonna have to do it. Because I'm really 
beginning to agree with Rene--Ben won't get better until 
he's had a good, long rest. Maybe he won't have to be in 
as long as he was in Seacouver; maybe it'll have to be 
longer. I don't know. What I do know is that three weeks 
wasn't enough."

     She nodded. "I won't force him to do anything, or 
help you to force him. But I'll help you keep him safe, 
and when the time comes, I'll do what I can."

     Joe smiled. "Me, too, honey. I guess we'll both just 
have to rely on the old Dawson charm  and hope for the 
best."

*********

     Amy comes out from the back. She walks up to where I 
am leaning against the bar, drinking a lemonade, and 
takes the stool next to me. She leans her head against my 
shoulder.

     I touch her cheek. "You've been crying. Are you 
okay?"

     She nods and closes her eyes. "You were right. He 
wasn't angry, but some things needed to be said."

     "Let me buy you a drink," I say, to cheer her up.

     She smiles. "You're actually paying?"

     "Of course I am." I shake my head at her lack of 
faith as I stand up, go behind the bar and draw her a 
draft from the tap. I push it across to her, touching her 
hand. "You look like you could use a drink."

     She sighs, rubbing her face, which is red and 
blotchy. "I suppose I do. He wants to talk to you, you 
know."

     "I know," I say, making it sound braver than I feel.

     She peers at me, suspicious girl. "You haven't been 
drinking, have you?"

     "Right before a Joe Dawson lecture? Not on your 
life. I need all my wits about me." I lean across the bar 
and kiss her. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

     Going out back, however, I feel rather less than 
fine. I can only guess at how angry Joe must be. I force 
myself not to pause before I go through the curtain. It 
is important to keep up a cheerful front for Amy.

     "Get your ass in here and park yourself on the 
couch, Old Man," Joe says, before I even get inside the 
office. Raising one eyebrow, I obey. I consider doing my 
usual thing, what Joe and Mac both call my "sprawl", then 
decide I'm not relaxed enough for that. And it would 
show. Instead, I sit, leaning forward with my elbows on 
my knees. Joe's eyes narrow when I take this stance. 
Damn. These bloody Watchers are much too observant.

     I decide to play it straight, at least for now. "If 
you're going to chew anyone out, Joe, I guess it had 
better be me."

     Joe looks disgusted. "Why? 'Cause you're the 
designated Ancient One of the relationship? Gimme a 
break." The cynical look fades. "This is a really bad 
idea, Old Man. I mean it. For the both of you."

     I look away towards the door, wishing I could just 
walk out. "I'm fine. She's fine. We'll help each other."

     Joe sighs. "Christ, Methos. All that tells me is 
that your judgement is completely out of whack. I can 
understand Amy being confused--she's never been up before 
a Tribunal. But you *know* what you're risking. You're a 
renegade, Old Man. They've been ignoring you for now. I 
think Gabrieli must have some weird interest in you and 
wants to keep you in sight, but he won't be able to keep 
this under wraps, not even for you."

     "I can handle Gabrieli." It comes out rather more 
sullenly than I intended.

     "Oh, yeah?" The tone in Joe's voice makes me look up 
at him. "How about Jean Diaconu, who crossed to the other 
side of the street when you ran into him last summer? 
Remember how upset you were when he froze you out? Or how 
about Ellen Crawford, who started screaming at you in the 
middle of the Metro two years ago?"

     I roll my eyes. "Who gives a damn about them? Not 
like they were friends of mine." But it's bravado. They 
weren't close friends, but Diaconu turning his back on me 
in the middle of a crowded street and Ellen jumping over 
a turnstile just so she could spit in my face, that still 
hurt.

     "You used to have coffee with Diaconu and Ellen 
Crawford had a major crush on you back in the early 
'90s." He huffs in exasperation. I must be really trying 
his patience today. His angry words of yesterday morning 
come back to me and I feel my earlier good mood curdle in 
my belly. I just want to crawl back into bed with Amy and 
forget about all this. Why can't it get easier with 
practice like so much else in life? Why does love have to 
be so damned hard every time?

     "They wouldn't be the first people to shun me, Joe." 
And that is true. None of the really important people 
shunned me when I quit the Watchers this time. Joe 
didn't. Amy hasn't. Don was already dead. And yet..... 
Maybe my old boss Daniel Stern's attempt to kill me after 
he found out what I was shook me up more than I thought, 
if that is one of the lessons that I have decided to 
learn permanently.

     "And what about Amy?" Joe is watching me, but I 
still react from the hip.

     "Amy will be fine. No one is going to hurt her in 
any way, not on my watch." I know that admitting this is 
a mistake as soon as I say it.

     "You mean you'd kill them," he says.

     I try to make light of it. "Well, it's what we all 
do for the ones we love, right?"

     He shakes his head, looking very tired and very old. 
I feel a twinge for him; how much longer will it be 
before I bury him, too? My pity evaporates, leaving a 
bitter precipitate of something a lot more like terror, 
when he fishes in his pocket and I hear the rattle of a 
pill bottle. He pulls the bottle out and looks at the 
label, reading for the dosage, no doubt. I should get up 
and leave now, but I cannot seem to move. I feel my 
breathing speed up and my head starts to pound. No. 
Nonono. Please don't do this to me, Joe.

     Joe opens the bottle cap and shakes out some pills. 
He looks up and extends his hand towards me. "I want you 
to take these," he says. His mouth is turned down with 
compassion. Bastard. I so want to hate him.

     "No." My voice comes out so choked, I'm not even 
sure that I spoke.

     "Yes." He doesn't move, just sits there, letting his 
hand rest on the arm of his chair, holding those bloody 
pills out to me. "You need to, Methos. You know that." At 
least he doesn't say it's for my own good.

     I rub my temples; the skin over them is stretched 
too tight. "I don't need any drugs."

     "Bullshit. You need them more than ever, now. You 
want to be with Amy? You want her to be safe? You want me 
to help keep her safe? Then, you take them, and you keep 
taking them until you don't need them anymore--until Rene 
tells you you're in the clear." I glare at him. "Don't 
give me the Horseman look. You say you're rational and 
responsible. Fine. A rational and responsible person 
would take his meds when he needs them." I frown and 
shake my head, his words buzzing in my ears, friendly and 
loving and seductive. "Show me you can handle this, 
Methos. Do the responsible thing and take your meds."

     That damned headache will not go away. No matter how 
much I rub at it, the blood will not come out. "No," I 
say. "It won't help. It's fine; I'm fine."

     "Christ, listen to you! Do you even understand what 
a mess the past two days have been since you got out? 
Rene is in the *hospital*, did you know that? You 
*should* be in the hospital. You think that just because 
you're in love you can dodge this bullet? Because you 
can't. Rene has people who love him, too, but he couldn't 
dodge that bullet, either. But he's doing the responsible 
thing, Methos. He's getting it taken care of. You don't 
want to go back to the hospital? Fine. At least take your 
medication. That's the price." The buzzing increases and 
I lower my head as a wave of fear washes over me. When it 
recedes, I hear one more word: "Please?"

     I look up at him. I chew on my lip for a minute or 
two. "You got any water?" I say. He nods and reaches 
behind him for a bottle of water on the desk. He drops 
the pills into my hand and hands me the bottle.

     "Here you go," he says, then watches me choke them 
down. Bloody things. How Mortals can take so many of them 
is beyond me.

     "Happy now?" I say.

     "You'll have to take more tomorrow," he says.

     I lean my head in my hand, not looking at him. 
"Fine. Whatever." 

     I hear his chair squeak--damn that wheel--as he 
rolls over to me. I feel his hand pat the side of my 
face. "It's gonna be okay, man. I'll take care of 
everything. I'll take care of you both."

     "I don't even know why you bother," I growl, but it 
is a tired sound. I'm tired.

    "Because you're my friend, you crazy bastard." I look 
up and he is grinning at me. He laughs. I know it is 
insane, but that cheers me up, if only a little. "You're 
gonna be fine."

      "Oh yeah? And how do you know that," I say 
skeptically.

     "Because I say so," he replies, with so much 
assurance that, you know, for just that moment, I do 
believe him.

*********
The night we met I knew I
Needed you so.
And if I had the chance I'd
Never let you go. 
So, won't you say you love me? 
I'll make you so proud of me. 
We'll make 'em turn their heads
Every place we go. 
So, won't you please 
(Be my be my baby) Be my little baby?
(My one and only baby) Say you'll be my darling.
(Be my be my baby) Be my baby now....


     You fled the office as soon as you could. I did some 
paperwork, to give you both time to recover, then came 
back out into the bar. You and Amy were dancing together 
to an old, romantic, girl-group song from the sixties 
while some of the regular patrons watched, amused. You 
had an easy, loose-hipped sway of clear enjoyment and I 
was surprised to see Amy getting into it with you, 
smiling and laughing. I felt bad for the both of you. It 
hurts to see the two people you'd kill for dancing right 
on the edge of a cliff. As I rolled over to your table, I 
could hear you giving Amy instructions on how to 
jitterbug. I noticed that the coat you'd left slung over 
a chair had a scabbard peeking out of it and wondered 
where you'd gotten another sword so fast. Not that you'd 
tell me. When the song ended, you and Amy stumbled over 
to my table, giggling, and flopped down on either side of 
me. I think that was your idea of being discreet.

     "Oh, boy. That's enough exercise for the rest of the 
week," you said. Amy laughed at you and I snorted in 
disbelief. I knew for a fact that you liked to go running 
a lot, even if you didn't see that as "real" exercise. 
Your couch potato rep was mostly undeserved. Maybe you 
didn't have Mac's thing for martial arts, but then, you'd 
been a fighter a lot longer than he'd been alive. Maybe 
once it got so you could do it in your sleep for the next 
fifty years, you no longer had to practice every day.

     I wondered about my plan, then decided that this now 
was as good a time as any now. "Hey, Adam, I've been 
thinking..."

     You turned your head, your eyes narrowed in 
suspicion. Paranoid son of a bitch. "About what?"

     "I told you about that concert I'm doing here on 
Valentine's Day, didn't I?"

     If anything, your look of suspicion deepened. "Ye-
es. You mentioned it before Christmas." That would be 
code for "in the basement after we were kidnapped". "Why? 
Are you cancelling it, or something?"

     "Uh...no." I played with a coaster. "I was wondering 
if you'd be willing to sing with me on stage that night."

     Your mouth dropped open. I took your stunned silence 
as a good sign. Amy said, "You're kidding."

     "No, I'm not kidding. I've been thinking about it 
since December." Figures that you'd both be skeptics 
about it. "It doesn't have to be more than one song." The 
twin looks of disbelief deepened. This idea was not going 
over well.

     You shook your head, looking thrown by the offer. 
"Joe, I--I'm no professional musician. I'd just embarrass 
you."

     "No, you wouldn't. It's not that big an occasion and 
I've heard you sing once or twice before. It'll be fine. 
Just one song. How bad can it be?" I squelched the little 
voice that instantly told me, "pretty bad".

     "I don't know." You shifted in your seat and looked 
over at Amy. "Maybe you should have Amy do it, instead." 

     Instead of being grateful for your consideration, 
Amy looked appalled by the offer. She threw up her hands. 
"Oh, no. I am not singing in public. I want you both to 
respect me afterwards."

     You leaned over the table, smirking at her. "I'm 
sure you have a perfectly lovely singing voice, my dear. 
And I already respect you afterwards." You ignored my 
glare. I'd given my blessing to what you two were doing, 
but that didn't mean I needed any details.

     "No," she replied sternly. "I'm not doing it, Ben. 
There are things I would do for you both--but that's not 
one of them."

     "Anyway, the offer was for you, buddy," I added. 
Damned if I was gonna let you squirm out of this one.

     Your shoulders slumped. "Joe, it's a bad idea. 
Really. I like to stay out of the spotlight, remember?"

     I snickered. "Oh, yeah. Like that time you went on 
Wheel of History in Seacouver and blew that Chubby 
Checkers question? You're right. That was real low 
profile." You had to talk fast to keep me from writing 
that one up. Fortunately for you, everybody else in the 
organisation was more interested in the Horsemen saga 
that followed.

     "You were on a *game show*?" Amy gaped at you, as if 
she couldn't decide whether to laugh or be impressed. You 
cringed. Hey, she was my daughter. I got to embarrass you 
in front of her if I so chose; and I so chose.

     "All right. I'll do it," you muttered, hanging your 
head.

     I cupped my ear with one hand. "I'm sorry. What was 
that? I think you said that to the table, not me."

     You raised your head and glared at me. "I said, 
'I'll do it.'"

     "Great. I'll make the arrangements." Inside, I 
sighed in relief. Outside, I smiled at you. "We start 
tomorrow morning, by the way." You looked horrified. I 
laughed at it. You are so not a morning person. "Relax. 
It'll be fun." Oh, I was gonna enjoy this.

     You stood up, back straight as you visibly clung to 
your dignity. "I think I'll...go get some more drinks."

     "No alcohol," I reminded you. "I'll have seltzer 
water." You let out a big huff at that one. I don't even 
know that you missed the alcohol so much as you relished 
the chance to bitch about having to teetotal.

     "Another Coke for me?" Amy said, handing him her 
empty glass. 

     You smiled and took the glass out of her hand. "Of 
course. Anything for you, my sweet."

     When you tipped up her chin and leaned down to kiss 
her, though, I cleared my throat. "Keep it clean, kids." 
You both stopped and looked at me.

     "What?" you said. Amy's eyes were wide.

     I shook my head. "Not in public. I don't really need 
to explain why, do I?" *And stop trying so hard to make 
your point, Old Man,* I thought.

     You grimaced. "Yeah, whatever," you said, then 
toddled off to the bar. Amy watched you go, her eyes 
narrowed in worry. She wasn't the only one worrying.

     She turned back at me and leaned forward. "You're 
just doing this to keep him in town, aren't you?" she 
asked, keeping her voice low.

     I shrugged, glancing over at you. You were drawing 
our non-alcoholic pints behind the bar, head down, 
hopefully oblivious. "Sort of. I did think of it before 
the shit hit the fan in December, but I also promised 
Rene today that I'd do what I could to keep him here." I 
eyed her. She had an I-don't-know-if-I'm-doing-the-right-
thing look that I didn't trust. "You're okay with that, 
right? Are we on the same page?"

     "Of course. I want him to be okay." She slouched in 
her chair in a fair imitation of your usual posture. 
Learning from the Master. Great. Like I needed to let you 
corrupt any more impressionable Watchers and have to 
explain it to Gabrieli afterwards.

     "Good," I said. "Because I don't think I can keep 
him from skipping town if you help him do it." I watched 
her, worried. I could see this whole situation getting 
more complicated by the minute.

     She stared at the table and traced the ring her 
glass had made. "I'm with you on this, Joe. Really. It's 
the best thing for him." Funny how she didn't sound like 
she thought that.

     "All right." I tapped out a little tattoo on my 
chair arm. "Just keep in mind that if he asks anybody to 
run away with him, it'll probably be you."

*********

     "How are you feeling now?" Leah's voice was gentle. 
Perhaps she understood that giving Rene hell tonight 
would be counterproductive. Rene hoped so. He was far too 
tired for a lecture, even a kindly one.

     He opened his eyes and turned over to look at her as 
she sat down next to the bed. "Better, thank you. I 
was...not so well earlier."

     "So I have heard." She folded her hands in her lap 
and crossed her legs. "To be frank, I had my concerns 
that this would present problems for your own recovery. 
Unfortunately, you were also completely correct in saying 
that you are probably the only therapist that Adam will 
trust at the moment."

     "I was, yes." Rene closed his eyes and swallowed 
down acid. "Not now."

    "Rene, what happened?" Her voice was full of concern, 
for him and surely also for Methos. He felt grateful for 
her support. He needed a non-judgmental ear right now.

     "They found the tape." He opened his eyes and looked 
at her bleakly. "The one that I told you about. Someone 
sent it to Adam in the mail."

     She did not speak. Rene supported his head on one 
hand and waited her out, too exhausted by his medication 
to bother her about her silence. "That is very bad," she 
said a moment later.

     He nodded. "I know."

     "Did Adam watch this tape? Did he understand its 
significance?" She was watching Rene now, taking out a 
pen and notebook to record what he said. Though he was 
used to her observing him, he found it unnerving now. He 
disliked being an inpatient. It brought back bad memories 
of being strapped down and drugged into oblivion. All of 
Sean's little kindnesses could never make that a 
unpleasant experience.

     "I am afraid so," he admitted, also too exhausted to 
lie. He thought about sitting up, then let that thought 
go. "Joe was with him."

     "And how did he react?" She leaned forward, tapping 
her pen on her knees. "Can you still work with him or 
will they present a united front?" No doubt she was 
nervous. He did not envy her this job, but could see no 
way of making it any safer for her.

     "Joe was receptive to my concerns--more or less. He 
is worried about Adam and Adam is behaving erratically 
again." As if Adam had ever stopped behaving erratically. 
Rene closed his eyes again and let his head sink into his 
pillow. He did not want to admit his own responsibility, 
but had no choice. "My actions did not help that."

     "What did you do?" Did she sound sympathetic or was 
that a trick of only hearing her voice without the body 
language?

     "Adam was furious with me, of course. He wrecked my 
things at his apartment, covered my clothes with ketchup. 
Childish rage. Not surprising, though not a good sign, of 
course. But he and Joe didn't see me until several hours 
afterwards when I went to find them at Le Blues Bar. By 
then, Adam had gone ice cold. He showed me the tape, then 
went to bed--with his sword--and ignored me." It felt as 
though someone else were reciting the story, someone calm 
and detached and uncaring. Rene wished he could be that 
someone right now.

     "His sword?" Leah sounded uneasy, but not half as 
uneasy as he felt, still, at the thought. Or should have 
felt if the medication were not dragging him down. He had 
asked Guillaume for something to help him sleep over an 
hour ago. He could not stay awake much longer. "He had 
his sword?"

     "Yes. He had his sword. He had it with him when I 
came to the bar. He unsheathed it and took it with him to 
bed. His meaning was clear enough. I left  him 
alone...left Joe alone with him. Perhaps that was not so 
wise...."

     "Why? What did he do next, Rene?" Rene heard Leah 
pull her chair towards him. "Tell me, Rene. It is very 
important that I know the entire situation before I go 
down there."

     He opened his eyes. There was a halo around her 
head. "You are going down there? But it's not safe."

     "No less safe than it was for you last night, Rene. 
Perhaps more. You put yourself in a very dangerous 
situation." She shook her head. He could not read her 
expression through the blur. "I must go down there. You 
cannot go; you are much too ill. And Adam still needs 
care, more now than ever. What happened next?"

    Rene swallowed. His throat felt cottony. "I went to 
bed. I was very tired; I thought that nothing more would 
happen that night."

     "With Adam right there?" she scolded him.

     "Nono. Methos...Adam had fallen asleep by then. He 
was unconscious. It was a very big day for him. A very 
big day." Rene muttered this last to himself. "I thought 
it was safe, that he would not wake before morning, even 
the following afternoon. And I went to bed. I had the 
most terrible dream. It was about the Hunters. And when I 
woke up, I saw Methos trying to kill Joe. So, I shot 
him."

     "You shot him? Good God. Are you sure Adam was 
trying to kill Joe?"

     Rene nodded and licked his lips. "Joe told me it was 
true afterwards, what I saw."

     Leah put a hand on his head. "Then you had no 
choice, mon ami. You had to save Joe's life. And 
ultimately, you did not kill Adam, since he is Immortal. 
Do not be so hard on yourself."

     Rene tried to sit up, but Leah pushed him back down 
gently. "Non. Tu ne comprends pas, ma cherie. I didn't 
recognise Adam. I was still inside my dream. I saw 
Methos. A Horseman. I thought...I went for his sword." He 
looked at her, pleading. "I tried to kill him, tu 
comprends? That is why he ran away."

     "He ran away?" Leah leaned close to him. "But Joseph 
said the both of you had spoken to him today."

     "We did. He spent the night with Amy."

     "Ah. Well, that is a good thing, then, non. Not so 
tragique?" She patted his head again, now that he had 
given up trying to get out of bed.

     He looked away from her. "They are sleeping 
together."

     "I see." She did not say it, did not need to say it, 
but he knew. He knew how disappointed Sean Burns would be 
in him now, were Sean still alive. "That is bad."

     "Yes," he agreed. "As you said before, that is very 
bad. And I have no idea what you or I, or even Joe, can 
do about it."

*********

     "You are very quiet tonight, Joe." Azar sounded 
worried as she wheeled me into the apartment. I couldn't 
blame her. *I* was worried, and I'll bet it was rubbing 
off on her.

     "I'm sorry," I said, rubbing my face. "Maybe we 
shouldn't do this, after all. You don't have to nursemaid 
me."

     "Quel dommage. And I was so looking forward to 
having you to myself for the night." She patted me on the 
shoulder--only her hand slipped a little inside my collar 
as she brushed the hairs on the back of my neck. I 
shivered. Must have been accidental. Azar was the classy 
kind of lady who never propositioned a guy.

     "It's just that Adam's so screwed up right now," I 
said. "I was expecting him to be in the hospital a lot 
longer--or at least until he had it together more. I sure 
as hell didn't expect to see him back out so soon. It's 
kind of..."

     "'Unnerving?' 'Irritating'? 'Insensitive', perhaps?"

     "That's not his fault," I said, automatically 
defending you. How many people have I defended you 
against now? Jeez.

     "Let's not talk about Adam right now. I am sure that 
he and Amy will be fine for tonight." She wheeled me up 
next to the couch and headed for the kitchen. "Would you 
like something to drink?"

     "Just some water, thanks." It had been a long night. 
I didn't need to get drunk at 3 a.m. She brought back a 
glass of water and sat down next to me, her hand on mine 
over the chair arm. When I finished, she took the glasses 
back into the kitchen. I didn't bother to turn on the TV-
-I wasn't in the mood for that, either.  Usually, I was 
used to only you being around, or Amy. For some reason, 
Azar made me uneasy, off-balance. Jittery. Then again, I 
wasn't interested in getting into the sack with either 
you or Amy. Azar was definitely a different story. Just 
thinking about her, listening to her little sounds as she 
moved around in the kitchen washing the glasses and 
running water, gave me a hard-on. I looked down--ah, 
shit. That wasn't a figure of speech. How embarrassing.

    I heard a meow from the bed, then a thump followed by 
the the sound of little cat feet. Silas jumped up on the 
couch and came over for a pat. I stroked his head, 
listening to him purr. "Azar," I called. "Would you mind 
feeding the cat?"

     "Of course not." I heard her moving around in the 
kitchen for another minute or two. She made kissing 
noises and Silas abandoned me for the kitchen. Cats. 
Fickle or what? Just when I was wondering if I should 
turn on the TV, just to have something to do, Azar came 
out of the kitchen and up behind me. Hurriedly, I pulled 
down my jacket, trying to cover my crotch as much as I 
could. She leaned over my back and hugged me. I felt 
guilty. She deserved better.

     "Uh, thanks for helping me out tonight," I said. 
"You really didn't have to do that."

     "I wanted to," she said. "Do you want to go to bed, 
now?"

      That flustered me. I wasn't expecting a nurse--
Hell, I don't know what I was expecting. "I-I'm not 
really tired right now...."

     "That is good, since I am not, either." I didn't 
know how to answer that. When I didn't, she came around 
and sat on the arm of the couch, looking me in the eye. 
"Joseph, I am not very good at this sort of thing." She 
reached out and cupped my cheek. "Could you help me?"

     I put my hand over hers. "I dunno, honey. I haven't 
had a whole lot of practice lately, myself." I tried a 
cheeky grin, and damned if she didn't grin back. O-kay. 
This was a go. "Maybe we could help each other?"

     She lost the grin. For a minute, I thought I'd 
screwed the pooch, and then she leaned forward, put her 
arms around me and kissed me. I got a good hold of her 
and kissed her back. We ended up with her half over the 
arm of my wheelchair and in my lap. No way she could miss 
my hard-on now. Not that she seemed to mind. I was kinda 
relieved (and disappointed) though that she didn't try to 
do something about it right there. I was ready to go but 
wanted to last long enough to at least get our clothes 
off.

     "This is a little awkward," I admitted, once we both 
came up for air.

     "I think we need to get you to bed," she agreed. 
That wasn't too romantic, though. Nothing exciting about 
wheeling somebody across a room, especially with that 
squeaky wheel. I gotta say, though, we both tried hard 
and it takes a while to get there when you're both 
stopping to do a little mouth-to-mouth. But getting me 
onto the bed wasn't what I'd call a thrill. I'm a big guy 
and while I try to keep as much in shape as I can, I 
didn't have much leverage. Didn't help that I kept 
remembering all the times you got me into the same bed. 
That really killed the mood. Sorry, Old Man, but I just 
don't love you in that special way. Yeah. I know. You're 
heartbroken.

     By the time we got on the bed without any danger of 
falling off, we were both out of breath and I'd lost even 
the memory of my hard-on. Little Joe was not having a 
good night, poor guy. I lay there, panting and staring at 
the ceiling, while Azar sprawled next to me, one arm 
flung across my chest. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea 
after all. Maybe we could just do some sort of brother-
and-sister cuddle thing. I turned my head to look at her. 
"Maybe we should just--I dunno, cuddle, hold hands, or 
something. Are you okay with that?"

     She sighed and snuggled closer. "Are you sure? We 
could just explore for now, I suppose." She took my hand 
and pulled it to her shirt. I swallowed when my hand 
landed on one breast. I could feel her nipple through the 
white silk and brassiere. When I started stroking it 
through the fabric, Azar sucked in her breath and closed 
her eyes. Little Joe decided he wasn't so gunshy after 
all and made a reappearance. Maybe this was gonna work, 
after all.

     "I guess it wouldn't hurt if we helped each other 
get undressed," I said, feeling breathless again as I 
started to unbutton her shirt. Lordie, Dawson. What a 
corny line *that* was! Truth was, though, I was scared 
shitless. She was getting to work unbuttoning my own 
shirt. What if she got my pants off and got a good look? 
And I didn't mean at Little Joe. Then, I thought, *Screw 
it. Not like you never got laid since 'Nam, and none of 
those ladies minded.* The situation couldn't get any 
weirder than it was already, anyway--considering that I 
was about to screw my best friend's academic advisor in 
his bed while he was off screwing my daughter in hers.

     "You know what?" I said. "To hell with the hand-
holding." Azar chuckled and moved closer. After that, I 
forgot all about why I'd been worried in the first place, 
especially once we got naked and heading for the 
homestretch.

     Afterwards, she cried. I held her, bewildered. 
"Honey, what's the matter?" I asked. "Didn't you like 
it?" I couldn't say that I'd "liked" it, either; "like" 
was too pale a word.

     She sniffled and shook her head as I tried to wipe 
her face with the sheet. "It's not that--it's just that 
it's been so *long*." The last word came out in a wail.

     "Shh, don't cry. It's all right." I pulled her head 
down onto my shoulder as gently as I could. "It's been a 
long time for me, too."

     She lifted her head and stared at me. "Really?"

     "Yeah." I smiled at her, feeling a little sniffly, 
myself. "Guess I was waiting for you."

     It must have been the right thing to say, because 
she put her head back down on my shoulder and wrapped her 
arms around me. We lay like that until we both fell 
asleep.

     Living on the street was cold. I could move into one 
of those shelters, but they'd try to run my life. I 
wasn't interested in that. If I'd wanted anybody to tell 
me how to live, not to drink so much, not to hate that 
sick bastard's guts, I'd have stayed with the Watchers. 
Maybe not the last one, though. Horton seemed to have a 
special thing against Methos. A really special thing. 
You'd think it had been his daughter Methos had killed. 
He wouldn't mind my hating Methos at all.

     To think I'd once called that piece of scum 
"friend".

     Horton had shot that kid who asked for my help, 
what, last week? A month ago? He wouldn't bother to come 
back again any time soon. He didn't like to waste any 
more time on the opposition than he had to. When you've 
got as many enemies as a guy like Horton has, I guess you 
have to prioritise. Poor kid. He shouldn't have bothered. 
The Hunters owned the Watchers now.

     I shivered, shifting my guitar over the armrests of 
my chair, and strummed a few bars. Could I pull off a 
little singing, today? That cold hadn't done my vocal 
cords any good. If I stayed in the sunlight in front of 
the church, I'd be a lot warmer, and I'd get all the 
Sunday customers. People don't go to church that much 
anymore, but the ones who do won't turn away from a poor, 
legless beggar in a wheelchair, not while they're leaving 
a house of God. You know what they say--Jesus loved 
beggars. I'd done pretty well so far this morning. 

     I watched the clock across the street. Ten to noon. 
I'd wait another ten minutes, then move on. I might get 
some guilty types hurrying past the church with their 
heads down. I rubbed my hands together. Damn, it was 
cold. Maybe I shouldn't wait anymore.

     As soon as I thought that, His face flashed through 
my head. Three years. Three years since he'd sent that 
kid after me. I heard he'd whacked poor Richie, the son 
of a bitch. What was the Old Man's motto? "No weak 
links." Yeah. And no matter what Horton did or said or 
bragged about, he couldn't get a bead on the Horsemen. 
They were ghosts, ghosts who killed Watchers. Forty so 
far this year. Horton didn't even want Kronos anymore. He 
wouldn't settle for anything less than Methos and I'll 
bet he really regretted not getting the crazy bastard the 
day he murdered Jillian.

     Bastard....Okay. Maybe I could understand how he 
felt. In fact, I *knew* how he felt, because the sick 
fuck had made damned sure that everybody high up in the 
Watchers had learned to share his pain. Many of his 
victims had been friends or relatives of Watcher 
leadership. It was a wonder he hadn't come after me by 
now, sitting duck that I was out here. I couldn't believe 
it was a courtesy; Methos didn't have that kind of 
compassion. No. He was making me suffer. Three years. The 
son of a bitch must have hated me as much as I hated him.

     The priest came out of the church. He approached me, 
looking and smelling cleaner than I'd been in years in 
his purple robes. Purple really wasn't his colour. 
"Monsieur, if you have nowhere else to go, perhaps I 
could call someone to come for you?"

     I screwed up my face and glared up at him. "Fuck. 
Off." He fell back a couple of steps and it made me feel 
warmer. At least I still got respect from somebody. He 
hurried back up the steps, away from me. Probably to call 
the police. I went back to waiting. It was all I had left 
to do.

      I woke up in the dark, sweating. I couldn't 
remember why. The dream hadn't been violent, or even 
exciting. I'm not such a good Catholic that I feel terror 
at swearing at a priest.

     Next to me, Azar stirred in her sleep and murmured 
half to herself. I stroked her face. *Just go back to 
sleep, Dawson,* I told myself. *This is what you have 
here and now.* I still didn't sleep for another hour.


To be concluded in part five