WOODS

The stillness of the autumn night was present in the humid air, making the weather feel hotter than it normally was at this time of year. Not a light could be seen through the trees. It was a perfect place for an illegal meeting, to trade illegal things.

Also the perfect place to watch.

{I should had become an F.B.I. agent,} was the thought running through the man's head. He was carefully crouched in a clump of bushes, his long golden-brown hair tied back in a pony tail. He wore a dark sweatshirt and dark jeans, fading into the surroundings. {Lord knows I need all the advantage I can get. Kingsboro, he is a sly one.}

Meanwhile, before him in the clearing, an older man with close- cropped gray hair studied the bushes around him. "Damn F.B.I. Always trying to get the best of ole Bruce," he chuckled. "How many have I offed myself? About two dozen now." Spying movement in the bushes, he withdrew a gun from his brown trench coat. "Make it two dozen and one."

In the bushes, the other man had pressed PLAY on a small hand-held recorder. "Log date November 1, 1997. Kingsboro is in the clearing and seems to be waiting...." his voice quickly cut off as a shot rang over his ears.

"Come on out, fuzz! You can't hide!"

The man shot up from his hiding place, dropping the recorder. He ran for the road, a stripe of gray in the distance. He could hear Kingsboro behind him, leaves crackling as he strove to catch him. {I was never one for being in the woods,} he thought. {Then again, Kingsboro's never been too big on exercise either.}

Another shot rang out as he reached closer to the road. It was the third that got him. Upper back, he remembered falling......falling into the welcome blackness that brought relief from the immanent pain.

Kingsboro skidded to a stop, his eyes blazed with excitement. "Who needs a woman, when I can get this?" He grabbed his sword from inside his trench coat. He grinned as he held the steel of the rapier to the moonlight. "Oh, you'll make excellent road kill, fuzz." He brought up his sword.

All of a sudden, a flash of headlight shone on the dead man. Kingsboro swore as he quickly hid his sword. "We'll meet again, fuzz," he said as he quickly plucked the wallet from the dead man's pocket and sprang back into the wilderness.

In the car, Dr. Anne Lindsey was rubbing her eyes. {I'm exhausted,} she thought. {A fourteen hour shift I hadn't even planned on and all I want to do is go home, kiss Mary, and fall in the bed.}

Her headlights picked up the form lying by the side of the road. She gasped and immediately pulled onto the shoulder of the road. She grabbed the first aid kit she kept with her and got out of the car and crept carefully toward the man.

He was lying face down in the mud. Leaning over him, she touched her hand to the pulse in his neck. He had none. She carefully knelt down and turned the body over. When she looked at the face, she gasped in shock. It was the last person she would ever expect to see lying in a pool of blood. He was her confidant. Her best friend. A fellow doctor at the hospital.

"Andrew!"

She grabbed his wrist, checking for a pulse there too, when the sleeve of his sweatshirt slid down, revealing the symbol of the Watchers organization. She listened for a breath. There was none. She quickly crossed her hands over each other to begin CPR.

Then he woke up.

Anne drew her hand back in shock as his deep blue eyes opened and he sucked in a breath on his own. He looked disoriented as he sat up and gazed at her. "Anne?"

"You....you're Immortal!"

Andrew felt the back of his sweatshirt, his fingers poking in the holes, feeling the patch of healed skin. He met Anne's gaze. "So I am. So I am....."