ANNE'S HOME

Anne pushed open the door to her house. "Come on in, Andrew. I have to dismiss the baby sitter."

She hadn't known what to do. She had seen Immortals die and seen the Quickenings when they were beheaded. But actually see a beloved friend turn from mortal to Immortal? Unbelievable.

Andrew, however, seemed quiet competent. Without expressing any emotion, he had calmly gotten up and walked to his car, which was parked in the bushes. He had inquired if she could drive to her house. Anne had replied in the affirmative. He followed her home in his own car.

She quickly paid her baby-sitter as Andrew got himself a drink from the refrigerator. He poured Coke for both of them and sat down on her sofa. Anne walked back and checked on Mary, then came back to sit across from him in a easy chair. She gratefully accepted the drink and found that he had laced it with rum. She cocked an eyebrow.

"You've had a shock, Anne," Andrew patiently told her. "You need it."

"To tell you the truth, I've barely drunk any alcohol at all since I found out I was pregnant with Mary." Anne sipped it carefully. She looked up at him. "Andrew, have you been an Immortal all along?"

Andrew sat back. " I did not know I was an Immortal until tonight," he said all of a sudden, wishing to push the issue out into the open.

"Did you know I knew about immortals?"

"Yes."

A funny feeling nagged in the back of Anne's brain. Knowing she was going to regret asking him this, she went on. "How long have you been a Watcher?"

"I became a Watcher at eighteen. My uncle was a Watcher. My adopted uncle that is," Andrew chuckled with wry humour. "It runs in the family."

Anne leaned forward. "Andrew, you helped support me all through my relationship with Duncan. All the ups and the downs. I could have never gotten through it without you. Did you know that Duncan MacLeod was immortal?"

Andrew gazed directly at her. "Yes, I did."

Anne sank back into the cushions, all her energy depleted. "You couldn't tell, could you?"

"Anne, I'm a Watcher. I was not only sworn not to consort with other Immortals, but to not mention anything about Immortals to mortals as well. I'm sorry if that caused you more grief. If I had only known that Joe Dawson had been friends with Duncan, I would had told you and had a clear conscience."

Anne sighed. "It's all right, Andrew. That is in the past and now it's time to face your future. You were mortal before now?"

"Yes." Andrew stood. "I need to go see Joe."

Anne stood as well and moved to hug Andrew. "Be careful. I have a feeling that the guy who shot you isn't done with you."

The look on Andrew's face darkened. "He's not. I'll tell you more later." He hugged her.

AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE BY THE OCEAN IN SEACOUVER

"Andrew Morris, eh?" Bruce Kingsboro paced the length of his small office, studying the driver's license in his hand. "Born December 9, 1961, age 35 years. Dark blond hair and blue eyes. No visible handicaps. He even makes a good driver's license photo," he chuckled, then threw the scrap of plastic across the room. "And an extreme nuisance."

How he regretted that missed golden opportunity to savor the sweetness of a Quickening. It was like a fine wine or a beautiful woman, something to be treasured to the fullest. If only that car hadn't come along.......

He moved back to his wallet and pulled out Andrew's hospital ID. "Seacouver County Hospital, eh? Maybe a golden opportunity to replace my missed one." He tossed the wallet down and walked quickly to the standard metal desk. picked up about thirty years ago. He popped up the Internet and quickly began hacking into the files at the hospital.

JOE'S PLACE

"Damn. Damn, Damn, Damn!" Joe Dawson slammed his fist down on the bar.

Andrew jumped slightly, but the movement wasn't apparent to the elder Watcher. "Joe, I didn't know. If I had known, I wouldn't have joined the Watchers in the first place."

Joe pulled out a couple of shot glasses and poured them some Jack Daniels. "I know, you, Andrew. You wouldn't have." Joe sighed and stared at the liquid before he downed it. "You remember the problems we had with Immortal Watchers last year in Paris. Looks like it's open season on them again this year as well." He downed the whisky

A stray lock of Andrew's hay-colored hair fell in his face. He pushed it back behind his ear. He took up the shot glass and studied the amber liquid in the light before downing it. He noticed the shaking of his hand, nearly sloshing the liquid onto the bar. He knew it was the shock. It hadn't quite set in yet, there was just enough signs to let him know that things had changed. He wondered when the full realization would hit him. "I suppose I have it easier than most, Joe. I know what comes next for me. Train or die. I need to find a good trainer."

"Well, I'd recommend MacLeod, but anyway, hanging around with MacLeod is a good way to draw attention to yourself. Richie Ryan's good, but I don't think he is good enough to be a teacher yet." Joe pondered for a moment, then perked up. "Say, I know!"

All of a sudden, a splitting headache came over Andrew. He winced as a mixture of pleasure and pain that was so forceful passed through his mind that he nearly passed out from the force of it. Yet before he could fully grasp the pain, it had passed, leaving him light- headed. He instinctively looked toward the door as a young man with close-cropped brown hair and eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. He wore a cream-colored cable-knit sweater and faded blue jeans with a hole over the right knee, and a worn pair of boots. He walked over to the bar with an air of purpose.

Joe grinned at him, . pulling back the coat on his charcoal gray suit. Andrew relaxed and smiled at the man,. "Hey, Adam. Meet Dr. Andrew Morris." Methos shook Andrew's hand, but didn't miss the tattoo visible on Andrew's wrist. Andrew had rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt prior to entering Joe's and had been absent-mindedly rubbing the tattoo on his left wrist. He did so now, clearly displaying the tattoo to the light.

Methos gazed steadily at Andrew. "A Watcher and Immortal. It's been done.....it's been done.... How long have you been immortal?"

"Two hours. At most."

Methos cocked an eyebrow at Joe as he sat at the bar. "Jack Daniels?"

Joe grumbled as he poured another shot for him. Methos accepted it and began turning the glass around in his hand over and over. Joe looked down at the circling glass until he finally said, "Aren't you going to drink that?"

"Yes. I just wanted to drive you out of your mind first." Methos downed the shot.

"You did that the moment you came through the front door," Joe muttered.

Methos ignored the comment and turned to Andrew. "I gather then you know what comes next."

"Of course. Training." Andrew replied automatically, reciting the path that every immortal's life normally took. His face expressed nothing.

Methos nodded. He was surprised. For one who had just become immortal, he seemed completely calm and composed. It was almost unnatural."How were you killed?"

"I was following Bruce Kingsboro on a drug deal. I now know it was a set up to catch me. He thought I was an FBI agent," Andrew sighed.

Joe and Methos glanced at each other. They both knew Kingsboro was immortal and that he would be coming after Andrew's head. Joe studied Methos for a moment. The gaze in his eyes told Methos that Joe was calling on him for a favor. A big favor. Methos dragged in a breath. He didn't want to do this. He would had preferred to stay in the background. But the look in Joe's eyes..... "You need to get you out of the States," Methos told him. non-committaly. "There's no way you can stand up to a fight with Kingsboro. There's a fine swordsman outside of Madrid, one of us. He'll be a good trainer."

Andrew nodded. "Valdaguez Domingo. He's one of the best, so I hear." He began drumming his fingers on the table, the medical side of him showing through. "I'll send out faxes first thing in the morning and see what they have available for a job. When I find one, I'll resign from the hospital."

"How long do you think that'll take?" Joe asked.

Andrew shrugged. "About a month."

Joe and Methos gazed at each other, the look in Joe's eyes growing more intense by the moment. Methos almost felt like throttling Joe, he didn't want to do this. But, it looked like Dawson was going to make him.

{Damn it.}

"You'll need training before then," Methos said. "Kingsboro is going to come after your head and he'll do whatever it takes."

Andrew nodded, the fear begining to show through in his voice. He quickly hid it, but it was enough for the two men to realize that reality was setting in. "Kingsboro is psycho. He savors each Quickening he has like a sexual conquest. I won't go any further into it, but I do know the lengths he'll go to just to receive one."

OUTSIDE JOE'S PLACE

Andrew left the bar, deep in thought. {My life has changed forever. What's left of it. Kingsboro's coming after me. I know it.}

The logical calm with which he had been covering his emotions had begun to evaporate, and only the knowledge of a new ally was making the future look at all safe. Adam was a strange man, and old if Andrew had any sense of judgement, and he had shown a reluctance to become involved at first. However, a short private conversation with Joe, which had seemed a little heated from the observer's place at the other end of the bar had settled something and Adam had agreed to train Andrew during the awkward changes that were about to take place. The doctor didn't know if he trusted Adam, but he seemed to have no choice. Events had been wrenched suddenly from his hands and his own sense of resignation was still surprising the man. The contemplation came an end very quickly.

He looked up to see a figure flash before him in the dark. He turned around but could see nobody behind him. Turning back, he could see no one in front of him. All of a sudden, he was tackled to the ground with a gun shoved at his head.

"Howdy," a gruff voice with an accent showed through. "The name's Daniel and my boss sent me. Want me to put you in your place. Says this here be just a warning. Next time, you ain't seein' the light of day again."

From inside the bar, Joe and Methos heard the gunshot. Methos ran outside in time to see a figure running away in the darkness. Looking down, he saw the pool of blood before him and soft cursing behind him.

"Damn, that blood will never come up," Joe said, looking down at the sidewalk. Methos glanced up at him.

"The bleeding's stopped, Joe. I hope you have some aspirin. He's going to have one big headache when he wakes up."

DOJO - TWO WEEKS LATER

"Ready? Go!"

Andrew and Methos clashed swords in mid-air. Andrew quickly blocked every jab that Methos gave him until his left arm gave a little, causing Methos to take the upper hand. He quickly knocked the sword from his hands and swung his own blade back up to his neck and got right up in his face.

"Remember, Andrew, don't let any physical weakness show through. No distractions, no nothing. Kingsboro will be looking for your weak spot. You need to trick him into thinking you have none."

Sweat trickled down Andrew's forehead into the white muscle shirt he wore to work out in. He felt the smooth, cool steel of the blade slightly cutting into his neck. he now knew what Adam meant, about not letting your guard down. One slip of the wrist and he could become the headless horseman. Methos drew back the blade.

Andrew picked up his towel and wiped off his face just as Anne walked into the dojo. She smiled warmly at Andrew. "This fax came for you. I said I'd bring it to you." She withdrew the fax from her oversized, black leather bag. Andrew took it and read it, a smile quickly brightening his face. "I've been offered a position as Chief Emergency Surgeon at the American hospital in Madrid."

Anne beamed. "Andrew, that's wonderful!"

Methos nodded slightly in agreement. "When do you take over the position?"

"Two weeks from Monday."

"Good. Perhaps you won't have to face Kingsboro after all."

"He could still follow me," Andrew pointed out. "I have a feeling I'll need to be ready no matter where I go."

"Did you resign from the Watchers?" Anne asked.

Andrew nodded. "I've been a Watcher for fifteen years. I was given the honors, you know the gold plated fountain pen, yadda yadda yadda."

Methos huffed but the two ignored him. "I'll type up my resignation tonight and get ready to move. I'm just glad that this is going smoothly so far." Andrew sighed. "Too smoothly."

A sudden feeling of intense awareness washed over Methos and Andrew and they turned their heads toward the frosted glass paned double doors of the dojo. They looked at each other and took up their swords in hand as the door pushed open to reveal Duncan MacLeod, dressed in a white T-shirt, black leather jacket. He walked in carrying a black duffel bag over one shoulder and his katana in the other.

"Well, well, fancy meeting you here," Methos greeted him.

"Fancy that, since it's my dojo," Duncan shot back at him, taking in Andrew and Anne. "Anne, what are you doing here?"

"Visiting a friend, Duncan. And it's none of your business anyways." Anne's expression darkened when he addressed her, clearly remembering their last encounter.

"Wrong. When you stepped over that doorway, it became my business."

"Ouch," Methos muttered. "MacLeod 1, Lindsey 0. Let's see what the good doctor can come up with."

Andrew could see the growing tension as well, what he considered to be a wise, but dangerous move, he stepped in front of Duncan. His eyes widened with recognition from the days he used to visit Anne at

the hospital. "Dr. Morris."

"MacLeod," Andrew shook his hand.

"I'm training Andrew," Methos spoke up. "He just became one of us."

Duncan gazed sharply at Andrew. "I'm not surprised."

"I'd figure you would know. You also must had known I was a Watcher." Duncan nodded. "Still following Kingsboro?"

"Well, not anymore."

Duncan nodded, letting the duffel bag slide over his katana and onto the ground. "Kingsboro kill you?"

"Yeah, in a false drug set-up. He thought I was from the FBI."

"How good is he?" he looked over at Methos.

"If he's lucky, he'll make it. After all, not even the most skilful have the best of luck," Methos chimed.

Duncan moaned. "Sometimes I hate it when you spout sayings like that."

"Well, you know as they say, what goes around comes around."

Duncan mumbled something under his breath that no one else picked up. He picked up his duffel bag and walked to the elevator. He stopped and turned around. "Anne, can we talk?"

Methos and Andrew gazed at Anne then. She sighed and followed Duncan to the elevator. As the machine moved out of sight, Methos stared at where the elevator had been. "Now would be a pretty good time to be telepathic," he commented.