Sarah Adkins

     "Is MacLeod here?" questioned Methos to Richie Ryan as he entered the dojo.
     "Yes," said Richie, "but I wouldn't go up there."
     "Oh?  And why not?"
      Cassandra.  That one name had so much meaning for Methos.  He had loved her once, but he didn't save her from Kronos, and she hated him for that, among other things.  Methos hadn't always been "one of the good guys."  In fact, he had once brought terror to the hearts of men as an evil horseman.  Those days were long behind him, but the memories still lingered.  He would be paying penance for his crimes all of his immortal life.
     "Cassandra," said Methos, breaking away from his thoughts.  "Then just have Mac call me at Joe's, would you?"
     "Sure," replied Richie.  "No problem."  But inside Richie thought "Now leave?  You've caused enough trouble with your lies."  Richie had yet to find out the whole story of what had happened after Methos' reunion with the horseman, but he did know that the ordeal had caused his good friend Duncan MacLeod a lot of heart ache.  You see, Mac didn't trust people easily, but he had trusted Methos, only to be betrayed.  Now Methos was acting like nothing had happened, but you could cut the tension between Mac and Methos with a knife, or sword, I should say.  Who am I?  How do I know so much?  I'm a Watcher (secret society of men and women who observe and record the lives of immortals, but aren't supposed to interfere).  Duncan MacLeod gave me a job at the dojo as a favor to Joe Dawson.  Dawson is MacLeod's Watcher, but over the years, they have become friends.  
     Getting back on track, this Methos character had been posing as Adam Pierson, a young Watcher.  Do the Watchers know he's immortal?  Are you kidding me?  They'd have him killed if the knew mild-mannered Adam was really the elusive 5,000 year old Methos.  Joe and I are the only Watchers who know, and Joe is Methos' friend.  Why don't I tell the rest of the Watchers?  A favor to Joe.  Favors sure run rampant around here.
     Well, Methos left the dojo then, and I thought I'd have a quiet day of sweeping the floors.  Boy, was I wrong.  "Hey kid," Richie said, "Come here."
     "Who me?" I replied.  Why would Richie be talking to me.
     "No, the other kid with the broom and book," he responded sarcastically.
     "Umm, okay," I replied, and walked towards him.
      "You're new here, aren't you?" He inquired .
     "Yes," I answered, "Mr. MacLeod just hired me."
     "I'm Richie Ryan," he said, though I already knew. "Nice to meet you."  Then he extended his arm for a handshake.  I was a little leary of hom still, but I figured a handshake couldn't do any harm, so I reached for his hand.  Just as we made contact, he twisted my arm around, causeing me to fall to the ground in pain.  He then pulled my sleeve up(I should have expected as much) and revealed the Watcher tattoo on my wrist.
     "Does 'Mr. MacLeod' know you're a Watcher?" he questioned gruffly.
     "Yes," I hissed, "could you keep it down?  I don't want the world to know."
     "Why don't we just go up and ask Mac if he knows you're a Watcher."  It was more of a demand than a request, but I still answered "sure."  We entered the elevator that led to MacLeod's loft.  I'd been there before, when I had my job interview, but it still awed and impressed me.  It was very nice, as far as lofts go, and it was nicely furnished as well; Leather couch, expensive antiques; the works.  I suppose it's what you'd expect of a 405 year old immortal; an eclectic blend of old style and new.  
     "Rich," said MacLeod, when we arrived, "want to release your death grip on Gavin?  He's a friend."
     "He's a Watcher, Mac," replied Richie.
     "And so's Joe," retorted MacLeod.
     "I'm not you're Watcher," I added after Richie released me, "I'm on research, and I needed an extra job."
     "Aren't you a little young to be a Watcher?" questioned Richie, "Just how old are you?"
     Since I'd already been associating with immortals, and I could lose my job for that, I figured I might as well tell them the rest.  "I'm nearly 17," I began.  "About a year ago, I discovered some information about Watchers and Immortals.  I was to dangerous for them to let go, and I guess they didn't want to kill me, so they told me everything, and I became a Watcher."  Just then I noticed Cassandra, so I didn't hear Richie's next question.  "What?" I asked, when I realized that he had said something.
     "I said what's in your notebook," he repeated.
     "Nothing," I answered sharply, clutching my notebook closer.
     "Richie," said MacLeod, "it's his notebook; leave him alone."
     "But Mac," began Richie.
     "Richie," MacLeod warned sharply, giving him that 400 year old glare.
     "Fine," said Richie, "I can see when I'm not wanted."
     "I'm glad," said MacLeod jokingly, but Richie was mad.
     "By the way," said Richie, when he had reached the alternate door of the loft, "Methos came; he wants you to call him at Joe's."  With that, he left.
     "Methos?!" questioned Cassandra sharply.  "You still associate with him?!"  She almost spat the words.  Cassandra was steaming.  I think she even forgot that I was in the room, because MacLeod said,
     "Can we talk about this later," with a nod towards me.  I took that as my cue to leave, though I would've liked to hear the rest of the conversation.  As I neared the exit, MacLeod said "You can have the rest of the day off."  I nodded in thanks, then left.  I was wondering what to do with my new found day off when I decided to head over to Joe's bar.  Even though I was underage, Joe had let me come in to watch the bands perform before.  I hoped Joe was working, and that he'd let me in.  I went around to the back of the bar, in case there were cops inside, and knocked on the door that led to Joe's office.  The door opened and I found myself face to face with the oldest living immortal.
     "Can I help you?" he questioned in an accent that sounded English.
     "Gavin Scott," I said, rolling my sleave up to show the tattooed Watcher's symbol, "I'm here to see Joe."
     "Come on in," he said, "I'm Adam Pierson."
     "I know," I replied.  "You work on the Methos Chronicles, right?  I'm in research, but I'm training for field work."
     "Yes," he answered, "The Methos Chronicles, if he even exists."
     "Oh, I think he does," I said cryptically, giving "Adam" a look he couldn't quite decipher.
     "Right," he said, "I'll go get Joe."

     "Hiya Joe," I said when he arrived without Methos.
     "Hi Gavin.  What's going on?"
     "Not much.  MacLeod gave me the day off, so I thought I'd stop by.  Where's Adam?" I inquired.
     "Adam thought you knew more than you were saying," Joe answered.
     "Who, me?"  I questioned, grinning slyly.  "Say Joe, are there any good bands here today?"
     "As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm playing some."
     "Oh yeah?" I questioned.  I knew that Joe played guitar, but I had never heard him.  "Can you get me in?  I'd like to hear you."
     Joe nodded his head.  "Probably," he said. "Depends on who comes."  
     I did get to hear Dawson play, and it was quite good.  Great, really.  After I left the bar, I headed back to DeSalvo's Gym, hoping to put in a workout.  When I arrived, I found Richie in the process of a kata, performing it with a practice katana that usually hung on the wall.  He stopped upon hearing me enter, though I don't think I made any noise.  "Hi Gavin.  Uh, I'm sorry about earlier," he said.  He had obviously had a talk with MacLeod.  "I was quick to judge.  It's just that after the Horton incident, I'm wary of most Watchers."
     "It's alright," I said, to my surprise really meaning it, "Horton was a disgrace to us.  Because of him, we've lost a lot of Watchers.  I don't mean just the Renegade oned; after Galati's revenge, many of those who were left resigned."
     "You don't know my full name," I said, remembering my manners.  "I'm Gavin Scott."  I offered my hand for him to shake.  As soon as I felt his grasp, I trapped his hand to my chest, and stepped back.  This hyper extended his wrist, and he fell to the floor.
     "I deserved that," he said, smiling.
     "Now we're even," I said, returning the smile.
     "Hey," he began, "do you want to learn this kata?"  When I nodded my head in affirmation, he continued.  "Get the, what's that Mac calls it?  Oh yeah, the wakizashi off of the wall."  I walked to the wall to retrieve the sword.  It was an exact copy of the katana in Richie's hands, except it was shorter in legnth.  Below it was a smaller blade; a tanto.

     It was late when I left the gym.  I sighed as I began the walk back to the apartment I shared with my guardian.  He was probably out partying. "Some guardian," I thought.  I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't see the car until it was upon me.  I turned my head to hear the roaring of a motor, and was blinded by the headlights as I felt a searing pain.  Then I died.
     The next thing I saw was a beautiful woman.  "An angel," I thought, "I must be in heaven."  Then I realized that I knew this woman; it was Cassandra!  "I was ran over by a car?" I questioned, barely audible.
     Cassandra nodded, confirming my suspicions.  "Mac, Richard, he's come to," she said.
     "I'm immortal?!" I croaked, while checking all my body parts to make sure they were in tact.
     "Welcome to the game," said Richie.
     "Don't lose your head," quipped MacLeod.  Then I passed out.
     I woke up the next morning to find Duncan in his kitchen frying eggs.  "Do you want an egg?"he asked me when realizing I was awake.
     "No thanks," I said,"just a glass of orange juice please."
     "You can change in to some of my clothes, if you'd like.  Yours were pretty messed up."  I looked down to see I was wearing a robe, probably MacLeod's.
     "It wasn't a dream then," I said, "I am immortal."
     "Ues," he said. "Now get changed.  If you need to go anywhere, Richie or I will accompany you.  It wouldn't do for you to lose your head on the first day."
     "Yeah, thanks," I said, smiling wryly.  After getting a black muscle shirt and sweat pants from a buera, I went into the bathroom and took a brief shower to wash away the dried blood, "mine," I thought, and changed clothes.  Looking in the mirror, I tied back my hair (I have blondish-brownish shoulder length hair that is naturally wavy).  I then examined my reflection.  I was a little shorter than I would have liked, and had hoped to grow a little before reaching full adulthood.  I couldn't now.  "At least I can get stronger," I thought, flexing a muscle. 
     After breakfast, MacLeod asked if there was anywhere I needed to go, and I told him I'd like to put in a workout first.  "Alright," he said, "Richie should be here sonn, let him know if you need to go somewhere."  I promised I would, and went downstairs to exercise.  After I finished stretching, I felt something.  Being a Watcher, I knew that this was the was the feeling immortals had to sense each others presence.  I had felt it earlier with MacLeod, and the night before with Cassandra, though I didn't realize it at the time.  I figured it was Richie, but to be sage I reached or the katana on the wall.  Much to my relief, it was Richie.  We worked out together for an hour, and then he said, "Are you wearing Mac's clothes?"  I nodded sheepishly.
     "I haven't gone to my apartment yet.  
     "Do you want me to drive you over?" he questioned.  "Maybe Mac'll let us take the thunderbird.  
     "Alright!" I exclaimed, as I'd been wanting to look at MacLeod's '58 T-Bird.  "How's the engine run?"
     "Purrs like a kitten," said Richie, sharing my enthusiasm.  Duncan did let us borrow the car, albeit with very strict warnings.  When we reached the apartment, I found that my guardian, Jeff, wasn't home.  That didn't surprise me, as he often spent the night at friends.  He wasn't much of a guardian, and I pretty much lived on my own, but that suited me fine.  I brushed my teeth, changed my clothes, and threw the borrowed clothes in the washer.    I could tell Richie wasn't thrilled about chaperoning me all day, so I said, "Could you just drop me off at Joe's?  I'll be fine, there're a lot of mortals there."  When I saw he wasn't sure, I continued, "I'll be fine.  Anyone who takes my head, wouldn't get much, and you can whack 'em for me if they do."
     "Alright," he said, "Mac might kill me for this, but I know what it's like.  Here," he paused, removing his rapier from his coat, "take this."  
     "I can't leave you defenseless," I protested.  
     "It's a short drive from Joe's to Macs, and once there I'll borrow a sword until you return.  I'd feel better knowing you can at least defend yourself."
     "Okay," I acquiesced, "let me get a coat."  I didn't have a trench coat so I looked for one long enough to cover the length of the sword.  I found my old black raincoat, and since a storm was forecasted, I supposed it would be okay to wear.  When I came down to the thunderbird, where Richie said he'd wait, he smiled at my appearance.  "I need to get a duster," I said.  He agreed.
     When Richie dropped me off at Joe's, I debated which entrance to use.  If I used the back, I'd be alone in an alley, and if an immortal came… 
If I used the front, and a cop was there, I could get arrested.  Better to go to jail then lose a head, I thought, deciding on the main entrance.  I knew the guard at the door, Harry.  I need to see Joe," I told him.  
     "Hold on a minute," he said, going to get permission to let me enter.
     While I was waiting I felt the presence of another immortal.  My hand traveled to the inside of my coat, my fingers resting on the hilt of Richie's sword.  Knowing it was there gave me comfort, even if I didn't know how to use it.  It was probably Methos, but what if it wasn't?  Was this how immortality was going to be?  Each day wondering if this would be your last.  "No," I told myself, "Once I learned, and mastered swordplay, I will feel confident, and not worry as much.  But until then…
     Luckily, I didn't have to face an immortal challenge today.  When Methos stepped out of the backroom, eyes alert for the possible danger of another immortal.  I breathed a sigh of relief.
     "Hello Gavin," he said, motioning me to join him at the bar, "looks as if we're in the same predicament," he said, meaning being and immortal and a Watcher.  Except I'm not 5,000 years old, I thought.  "Mmm, I suppose so," was all I said, sitting down.
     "You won't tell anyone?" he questioned urgently.
     "Geez Methos," I whispered angrily, "I've known you little sectey for months, and I ahven't told anybody."
     "What?"he asked, clearly perturbed.  Then he lowered his voice. "Joe told you."  It wasn't so much an accusation as a statement of fact.
     "Joe had to tell me," I said, "I figured out you were immortal."
     "It doesn't matter how.  Don't be mad at Joe, he did you a favor."
     "How's that?" he questioned, not mad now.  At least he didn't show it…after 5,000 years, though, you probably learn to control your emotions. 
     "If he wouldn't have told me, I might have gone to headquarters with it.  But he did, and I've kept your secret ever since."
     "Should I say thank you?" he said sarcastically, "Or, " he said more seriously, "should I take your head to ensure that my secret is safe?"
     "I wouldn't do that," I said, not sure if he was joking or serious.
     "Why's that?" he questioned amusedly.
     "Because MacLeod would cut off your head," I said with as much menace as I could muster.
"He would try anyways