Highlander 1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Gambit, Candra, the Externals, and all related characters, concepts and events belong to Marvel Comics. I'm not really certain where this fits into Marvel continuity, but its before  
  
Gambit joined the X-MEN. None of the above belongs to me. I am only borrowing them for  
  
the purposes of the story.  
  
Indicates thoughts Note: I am not taking into account whether or not Gambit was aware  
  
of Candra's connection to the New Orleans Thieves Guild as their Benefactress at this time.  
  
Some of Candra's lines were adapted from issue #3 of the 1st run Gambit Limited Series.g  
  
2nd Disclaimer: Highlander, the Watchers, Immortals, Amanda, Joe Dawson, Jack Shapiro,  
  
and all related or mentioned characters belong to Rysher, Panzer/Davis Productions.  
  
I am only borrowing them for the purposes of the story. Takes place after the 3rd season two part  
  
episode "Finale". The title was inspired by the movie, which I've never seen.  
  
However it just seem to fit.  
  
Year of Living Dangerously by Karen  
  
Candra stood on her balcony surveying the City of Lights, her chin resting in one hand, the other curled around the delicate stem of a wine glass. She sipped the pale white liquid then inhaled the smooth bouquet of the expensive wine. Just like drinking pure silver or perhaps ivory, she fondly thought. She could afford either and the wine to boot. The fortune she'd amassed over the centuries, had more quadrupled. It was a fortune that only a few of the wealthiest billionaires around the world could boast. Candra blew a tendril of blond hair away from her eyes, then sang out:  
  
"Are you coming? It's an especially fine day out. On a clear day you can see forever."  
  
Candra smiled inwardly at her own turn of phrase. After all, as an External, she'd been granted an extremely long life, witness to her share of history. Having long ago chosen not to join her fellow Externals in their machinations, she'd preferred to play the power broker alone. Under her own rules. With that in mind, Candra pivoted on her heels to face the man emerging from the  
  
eighth floor apartment suite.  
  
"Oui, Mademoiselle," Remy LeBeau replied, sauntering out onto the balcony to stand  
  
beside her.  
  
"So formal, Remy," Candra lightly teased, ruffling his auburn hair.  
  
"Candra. Cherie. You been kinda distant de last couple of weeks," Remy observed, reaching for the wine bottle half hidden by her pleated skirts.  
  
He tried to ignore the unsettling feeling he got any time Candra began treating him like  
  
a queen's pampered lap dog. "Care to tell this homme why? Just wonderin' what be up wit'  
  
you, is all."  
  
"Remy, I need a favor. I need you to do something for me," Candra began, a sweet, alluring smile on her lips. She let her head droop from the normal regal tilt she adopted, allowing her blond locks to cover her face. It was a girlish habit, one she'd never quite grown out of.  
  
Then she placed her wine glass on the balcony ledge and turned around again.  
  
"Oh?" Remy replied, arching an eyebrow, his interest piqued in spite of himself.  
  
"I wish to discuss a matter of some urgency. Have you ever seen this symbol before?"  
  
Candra removed a faded sheet of paper from her pocket, smoothing down the edges to better  
  
display the image printed there: a teardrop shape, pointed downwards inside a circle of twelve  
  
stones, one of the many symbols for eternity.  
  
"Can't say that I have. What is it?" Remy traced the image with a gloved fingertip.  
  
"Looks important."  
  
"It is to me. It belongs to an organization called the Watchers. They have the temerity  
  
and the arrogance to steal something of mine, and I want it back," Candra insisted, tapping his shoulder.  
  
"Watching whom?" Remy sensed Candra's urgency.  
  
"Immortals. I need you to retrieve a book for me," Candra finished.  
  
"Why not just go to a used bookstore?" Remy reasonably suggested.  
  
"Not just any book, my handsome one, my book. Specifically, my chronicle. I don't like  
  
just anyone knowing more about me than I know about myself. These Watchers must be  
  
pay for prying into my affairs. Go their to headquarters in France and get it back for me,"  
  
Candra insisted.  
  
"Sure thing," Remy agreed. "Be in an' out, with no one the wiser"  
  
"Excellent, Remy. Wonderful. Care for some more wine?" Candra coaxed in sweet,  
  
sleepy, syrupy tones.  
  
Accepting the bottle, Remy downed a healthy swallow, wondering as he did so,  
  
What is so damn important about some mouldy old chronicle?  
  
**********  
  
Joe Dawson perched on a stool in the dimly lit bar, singing the blues. His eyes closed, he let the melody and the words pour out of him. He didn't want to force it, as he'd tried to do in the past. The best part of blues music was the emotional release it gave him, soothing away the tension of the past several days.  
  
Never should'a let Methos talk me into putting all the Watcher Chronicles into one  
  
easy-to-access CD-ROM. Technological progress, yeah right! We were just begging someone  
  
like Kalas to waltz right in and take it Joe thought angrily to himself.  
  
"Come on, baby, do somethin' for me," he whispered to his guitar, fingers running  
  
rapidly over the strings.  
  
"If Amanda hadn't helped Kalas escape from prison, if Christine Selzer hadn't gone to that reporter; if Macleod hadn't. If only… If only. A wise man once said that our lives are made up of a hell of a lot of 'if onlys," he grumbled in disgust, lowering the guitar to the floor.  
  
As the Watcher assigned to Duncan Macleod, the Highlander, he'd been forced to relocate when the Scottish Immortal had returned to Paris and set up shop in a river barge, of all things. True to his commitment to the Watchers, he'd packed up his bags and hopped on the next  
  
plane to Paris.  
  
Just then the door banged open. Too tired, and not caring to find who'd come to the bar after closing hours, Dawson didn't bother to glance up.  
  
"Joe, I need a favor," Amanda murmured in her silky, wheedling voice. The one that  
  
she knew how to use so effectively.  
  
"Amanda," Dawson greeted.  
  
She dragged a chair form a nearby table, where it'd been stacked, and dragged it over to  
  
sit beside him.  
  
"I'd like to help, but I can't," Joe stated, well aware that he'd been through this same scenario with Duncan Macleod, then his student, Richie Ryan, and the woman across from him, more times than he wished to remember. Every time it had come down to an identical song and dance number. He arguing that for the sake of friendship he wanted to help in any way that he could. On the flip side of the coin, due to his sworn oath as a Watcher; he couldn't interfere. Immortals and Watchers were like oil and vinegar. They didn't mix.  
  
"Come on, Joe," Amanda coaxed. "You always say that," she trailed off.  
  
"What are you doing back here, Amanda? After the incident with Kalas, and the Watcher Chronicles Christine threatened to turn over to that newspaper, I thought you wouldn't dare to show your face in Paris for at least a decade,' Joe half-growled, half-choked out.  
  
"How long can Macleod stay mad at me? Besides he's already forgiven me for breaking  
  
Kalas out of jail. It will blow over. It was an honest mistake," Amanda rattled off all in one breath.  
  
"You seem to make a lot of those," Joe irritably muttered, shifting for a more comfortable  
  
position on his stool. "How many times do I have to tell you, that I'm a Watcher, I took an oath  
  
not to interfere."  
  
"Well, the word on the street is..." Amanda purred.  
  
"Don't keep me in suspense, Amanda. I know you and your tricks too well," Joe interrupted.  
  
"Okay, okay. Here's what I've got, Joe. A few days ago, I get this call from Methos, just like that. He said he'd been digging up documents dating back to the Byzantine Empire. Turns out there's a splinter group of Immortals called the Externals. There actually may be more than one. However, the only one I'm interested in, is a woman named Candra." Amanda rattled off in one breath.  
  
"Methos finally surfaced, huh?" Joe sarcastically muttered.  
  
"Yeah. Big surprise, huh?" she added, but we're getting off the track."  
  
"Externals," Joe echoed, feeling dread roil in his gut.  
  
"Are they like us? Do the same rules apply?"  
  
"The best I can do is say, yes and no. Externals were never an issue that the Watchers  
  
concerned themselves with. They may be a completely different race. Or something completely  
  
unknown," Joe began explaining, getting into his best lecture mode despite his better judgment.  
  
"Do you have a chronicle on Candra?" Amanda pressed.  
  
"Actually, Yes. Unfortunately it's locked up tighter than gold in Fort Knox at Watcher HQ in France. Even I don't have access to that kind of information," Joe Dawson said. He stood up with the help of his cane, then shuffled off to stand behind the gleaming bar counter. He paused for a minute, to pull out a sheaf of papers and thumbed thorough them.  
  
"Who does?" Amanda eagerly pressed.  
  
"Jack Shapiro. He's my counterpart in the Watchers organization here in Europe. What's my track record now? How many times have I crossed that invisible line? Joe Dawson, Watcher, friend, confidant. Sometimes even I wonder," Joe muttered shaking his head in mock chagrin.  
  
"Joe," Amanda soothed and lightly kissed him on the check. Then she stood up.  
  
"Despite everything's that's happened between us, and everything... I'd like to think we're still  
  
friends." With that, Amanda glided swiftly for the door.  
  
"I wouldn't want to lose that friendship," Joe replied, as the door began swinging shut  
  
behind her. "Amanda, one more thing..."  
  
Amanda half turned, one hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"  
  
"According to the records we have on Macleod, he encountered another External named  
  
Crule circa 1800's on the Barbary Coast. There's a rule you probably haven't heard before: The Other Rule, for lack of a better term. It may prohibit you from directly challenging Candra,"  
  
Joe warned, as he referred to the papers in front of him.  
  
"I can handle anything she throws at me," Amanda boasted.  
  
"Just keep your head, Amanda," Joe cautioned.  
  
"Thank you, Joe. We'll celebrate when I return." Amanda exited the bar, her confidence  
  
growing with every step. Just get in, steal the book and get out. What could be simpler?  
  
1 I probably won't even encounter Candra, and if the Watchers do have her Chronicle, it's  
  
always a wise tactic to find out as much as I can about a potential challenger, if I ever do  
  
fight her. As they say forewarned is forearmed. Amanda thought, as her slim form was swallowed up by the crowds and the night shadows.  
  
***********  
  
The following evening found Remy LeBeau straddling the trestle of the bridge spanning the Seine. He removed his black boots and set them aside, pausing to reflect on his relationship with Candra. She had never been this agitated over some unknown party probing into her business affairs before. Sure, he knew there were things she kept from him. She had her secrets, but then again, so did he. Candra had been pestering to steal some book for her. She claimed that some clandestine organization several centuries back had gotten hold of details of her past lives and complied it into an chronicle, and now she wanted it back.  
  
He pulled out the slip of paper with the Watcher symbol on it. It looked like a watermark for  
  
some company's correspondence. Flipping it over, like he would his trademark playing cards, Remy noted there was an address on the back for a chateau in Lyons. He go, check the place out, find an entry point, and still have time to explore the city, before evening fell, giving him a chance to go for the book.  
  
*****  
  
He climbed the conveniently situated ivy clinging to the chateau's walls, finding hand and  
  
footholds with ease. Years of experience as a member of the New Orleans Thieves Guild made him constantly aware of his surroundings.  
  
His uncanny red on black eyes gave him perfect night vision without the need for  
  
equipment other than the tools of his 'trade' and the bo-staff he carried. He'd spent the last few  
  
hours casing the building, finding vulnerable points that he could exploit to gain entry.  
  
"Mebbe, when I get de book, I not give it to her," Remy muttered, vaulting from the  
  
chateau's balcony to a window ledge, and then levering it open enough to allow him to slip inside.  
  
Remy landed on both feet, as silently and smoothly as a cat. He narrowly avoided stepping on a motion-sensitive detector as his feet made contact with the floor. Pivoting on his heels, Remy sped in the direction of the vault containing the Watchers archive. Ordinarily, he'd have been intrigued enough to stay and browse the collection for a while. But he was only here for one volume, Candra's chronicle.  
  
A t'ief who can read, go figure, he thought cynically to himself.  
  
"Wonder how Candra knew where dis place was? Could it be she has someone working  
  
inside dere organization. It wouldn't surprise dis homme one bit," Remy muttered under his breath.  
  
********  
  
Amanda knelt at the base of the hedgerow, along the driveway leading to the Watcher's  
  
HQ. It was a chateau built around the turn of the 18th century at the confluence of the Rhone and the Seine rivers. Amanda wasn't there to admire architecture, or reflect on the history; however she couldn't help admire the extravagance that had gone into its construction during the Renaissance period.  
  
The last time I was here, I was invited by a French Marquis, when I wore silks  
  
instead of basic black,Amanda thought absently.  
  
She lifted a pair of night-vision goggles and peered through them. The scope intensified the existing light instead of relying on a light source of their own. The sensitive device immediately allowed her to 'see' any would-be security devices, motion-detectors, or additional measures. It illuminated her immediate surroundings in a green haze. Like a camera, the device had various magnifications.  
  
Amanda had chosen to set it at 100 feet. Conditions for viewing were optimum, moon and starlight, with no haze or fog.  
  
The place didn't appear as heavily guarded as she'd been led to believe. In fact, it looked  
  
almost deserted.  
  
"Maybe the really good security systems are all inside," she muttered.  
  
She stuffed the goggles into her backpack and slung it around her left shoulder. From the pack lying at her feet, Amanda hefted her sword, prepared to expect the worst. She stealthily crept along the edge of the driveway towards a low level window, and pried it open. Her heart pounded for a few seconds as the hilt of her sword caught on metal rod holding the curtains, Amanda engaged in tugging it free, cursed fluidly in several different languages as the edge ripped the curtains.  
  
Once she'd gotten unstuck, she clambered through the window.  
  
She landed on a plush Oriental rug with the silence of a cat, then gave her surroundings  
  
a 360 degree inspection. She'd landed in an empty foyer.  
  
Half expecting some sort of armed resistance, Amanda took up a battle ready stance.  
  
Not seeing a soul around, Amanda's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Choosing a direction,  
  
Amanda ran down the hallway. "This had better be worth it," she angrily humphed as she threw  
  
open doors at random and found only empty rooms.  
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile, Remy, with his back to the wall, cautiously poked his head around the corner of the fourth floor landing. He glanced back in the direction he'd just come from. The telltale sound of booted feet had faded, leaving him alone.  
  
"Beautiful," he muttered, "Dey gonna play hide and seek wi' ol Remy now?"  
  
Just then he smelt the acrid smell of smoke as one his currently unseen pursuers fired off  
  
a round from a .38 caliber pistol, leaving a hole in the wall near where his head had been.  
  
"Good shootin', if you be aimin' for de wall. I'm getting' a bit tired o' dis, hommes," Remy warned.  
  
Whoever had fired the shot must have heard him, because three men in dark clothing  
  
emerged from one of the rooms along the landing, guns in hand.  
  
"You've certainly led us a merry chase, but there's nowhere else to run now," he threatened.  
  
"Non. I beg to differ, mes braves," Remy replied, pulling the folds of his duster  
  
around himself, and unobtrusively removing a handful of playing cards.  
  
Charging them up with kinetic energy, he let them fly into the group, scattering them like so many dust motes. Seeing that they were down for the count, Remy clambered up onto the banister, and slid all the way down. He landed with a thud, and an irritated growl as his trench coat snagged on the end. Once he had it free, he consulted the mental picture he'd built while running around the place. Orienting his present position with that of the archives, he set off once again.  
  
  
  
*******  
  
Inside a soundproof, secured room where all the Chronicles the Watchers had complied  
  
over the centuries were stored. Amanda knelt at the base of a glass- enclosed display. Inside was a single volume bound in brown leather, which bore the Watcher's logo on its cover.  
  
Her sources had informed her that this was the Chronicle on Candra. Her experienced eye  
  
told her that it was a very old text, remarkably well preserved, and very valuable.  
  
"Whoever these Watchers are, they sure went to a lot of trouble maintaining this thing," Amanda said. "Wonder how much I can get for this on the rare antiquities book market? After I get full lowdown on Candra."  
  
She removed a laser-cutter from her bag, one of her many tools as a professional jewel  
  
thief. Pressing a button to activate it, she began cutting into the glass case.  
  
"Just hope my luck holds out, and this doesn't set off any alarms. If I was the paranoid type, I'd say that this operation has been way too easy," Amanda whispered as she lifted the book  
  
from the case. Then she smoothed the cover with her fingers.  
  
"Put the book down and step away from the case," an authoritative male voice ordered.  
  
Amanda spun in surprise. She was confronted by a man dressed in a dark, expenisvely  
  
cut Italian suit. His short cropped dark hair, a bland nondescript color, framed a pale oval face with a pair of startling pale blue eyes and an aquline nose.  
  
He snapped his fingers and half a dozen men in dark clothing arrived, all armed, except for one who carried a length of rope. "Tie her up, and make sure you take away her sword."  
  
"Who are you?" Amanda breathlessly demanded, hugging the book to herself, as the strangers men approached.  
  
"The name's Shapiro, Jack Shapiro," he responded, pointing a gun at her.  
  
"Ooh, I'm so scared," Amanda wheedled, stalling for time.  
  
Okay, Amanda, there's one of two ways to play this, risk losing your sword and maybe your head in the process, or go along with it. Okay, plan B. Improvise she thought.  
  
"I may not be able to kill you, but I can slow you down, now do as you're told, and no  
  
one will get hurt," Shapiro said, watching as his men shoved her towards a folding metal chair  
  
resting near the far wall of the room. "Sit down, we're going to have a little talk," Shapiro invited.  
  
He made it sound more like a demand.  
  
"Boys, don't you know this is bad for my circulation?" Amanda said, as Shapiro's henchmen grabbed her wrists, and roughly shoved her down on the metal chair.  
  
The next she knew, they'd tied her arms behind her. They wrapped the rest of the rope around her legs, cutting off her circulation. Amanda squrimed, hoping that would loosen it, but, either they'd taken knot-tying lessons from sailors, or they'd done this before, because the she found herself in a very constricted position. She languidly extended one leg in a calculated move to distract them.  
  
"Ignore her," Shapiro absently remarked. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, it's up to you, Amanda. Surprised I know who you are? Don't be. As you know, or else you wouldn't be here, the Watchers do their homework. Why did you want that particular volume?"  
  
"Oh come on, what's the big deal? It's only an old book," Amanda tried to downplay her  
  
situation. "Would you believe I'm into collecting old manuscripts and books and restoring them  
  
for posterity?" Amanda squirmed in the chair, hoping for a more comfortable position.  
  
"Where's your accomplice?" Shapiro asked, not even deigning to reply to Amanda's glib explanation.  
  
"What accomplice?" Amanda asked, puzzled.  
  
"Oh don't give me that," Shapiro snapped, annoyed. "You know to whom I'm referring.  
  
If there's one thing I can say for you, Amanda, you certainly have a talent for selecting accomplices for your crime sprees. Or is that, for making enemies, which is nearly as infamous."  
  
He stared intently at her.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Amanda replied, confused. "I came alone."  
  
"Oh really? If it's any consolation, we're having the devil's own luck pinning the young man down. He's currently running around the halls like some ghost. What is he to you? A partner? A friend? A lover?" Shapiro questioned.  
  
"I don't care if you believe me or not. I'm only here for the Chronicle. It's pretty hot property on the black market." Amanda tried again.  
  
**************  
  
Remy peered through the eye hole and listened to the conversation taking place in the Watcher's Archive, before deciding on his next move.  
  
"A damsel in distress, how could I pass this up?"  
  
With shocking speed, Remy pulled a handful of cards from his coat pocket, then used his mutant power to tap into the potential energy and transmute it into kinetic energy. The effect of the charged up cards, was explosive!  
  
"What the hell is this?" Shapiro asked, bending down to pick up a glowing object that had been thrown through the door "The ace of clubs?"  
  
Seconds later Shapiro dropped the card as it burned his fingers, and the card exploded.  
  
"What's going on here?" Shapiro whirled around to confront Amanda with an accusatory glare.  
  
"Like I should know?" Amanda innocently replied, not wanting to let on that she was just as puzzled about the identity of her mysterious benefactor.  
  
At least he's not an immortal, which is a good thing. If he were I'd have felt the 'Buzz' by now. So, is this the 'accomplice' Shapiro was so hot and bothered about? And what's with the exploding playing cards?  
  
Moments later Amanda questions were answered.  
  
"Bonjour, mes braves. You've been looking for me? Non? I guess you found me," Remy casually remarked, striding into the archive room as the steel-reinforced door exploded from the impact of another charged up playing card.  
  
"Take him!" Shapiro shouted, training his gun and his attention away from Amanda.  
  
The henchmen, who'd been lounging against the far wall at the start of Shapiro's Q & A session with Amanda, purposefully moved into the center of the spacious room, adopting battle ready stances. They pulled guns from their coat pockets and began firing off shots. Remy figured he'd save time by going over them instead of through them, and leapt into the air executing a flip that placed him directly behind Amanda.  
  
He knelt next to her and whispered into her ear, "Hold still, dis won't hurt a bit." With that, he lightly inched his finger around the knots in the rope, charging the fibres, and concentrated so that he wouldn't singe her by accident.  
  
Amanda wriggled out of the remaining ropes and dove in, targeting Shapiro, but the coward had already taken his cue and left the room. Typical she angrily thought.  
  
"Look out!" Amanda shouted, as she felt a bullet graze her left cheek. It didn't draw blood, but it stung like hell.  
  
Remy dodged the bullet, and the ones that followed, even though a few did manage to rip into his trench coat. He picked up the remains of the rope, that had been used to subdue Amanda, and charged it. He whirled it around his head a few times before heaving it towards the henchmen. It landed somewhere around their feet, and the resulting explosion caused them to drop their guns and fall over each other.  
  
Remy walked over to them and placed a black booted foot over one man's hand, as he made for his weapon. "No more of dat, mes amies."  
  
"Who are you?" one of the henchman gasped, staring up at the man with the red eyes and torn trench coat.  
  
"Le Diable Blanc, but you can call me Gambit," Remy replied. Been a long time I hear anybody call me by that name. Least not since leaving de Guild Remy absently thought.  
  
Amanda watched him for a moment, wondering absurdly why he had red eyes, and then as sanity returned, scrambled for the chronicle that been left unheeded by the door. She also fretted about the location of her sword.  
  
She gritted her teeth, inching her way along the wall. She snatched up the chronicle. She'd been through far too much this evening to let what she'd come for slip out of her grasp now.  
  
"Looking for dis,"? her mysterious benefactor suddenly asked, holding her sword out to her.  
  
"Uh, yeah thanks," Amanda gasped. "Gambit? What kind of name is that?"  
  
"Now it's time to leave," Remy quipped, not answering her question.  
  
"Do you make a habit of this?" Amanda laughed suddenly.  
  
*************  
  
"Thanks for the save. Nice accent, by the way. Cajun?" Amanda remarked, preparatory to jumping off the rooftop where they'd taken sanctuary in the event anyone decided to come after them.  
  
"Your welcome, cherie," Remy replied, "But mebbe de damsel in distress didn't really need my help, non? " He glanced askance at the sword swinging from her right hand. "Do you always go around wit' dat sword like it was a fashion accessory? Do you have a name?"  
  
"To answer your last question, it's Amanda. And do you always go around dressed like the lead in a Wagnerian "Ride of the Valkyries meets Space Odyssey?" Amanda fired back, gesturing to Remy's Kevlar body armor.  
  
She couldn't be sure, but in the moonlight his eyes seemed a little eerie, almost red. She'd noticed it below during the fighting, but hadn't had time or the inclination to bring it up.  
  
"That really isn't the issue? Where's de book?" Remy suddenly demanded.  
  
"That's what you came here for. Well, I have it and I'm keeping it." Amanda defensively replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides what do you want with a moldy old chronicle anyways? You couldn't possibly want it for its historical value."  
  
"Actually, no. You see, to tell de truth, de reason I want it is because I know de person it belongs to," Remy whispered.  
  
"You know Candra?" Amanda said, startled at this revelation.  
  
"Unfortunately. Oui."  
  
"If you know her, then won't need the book. I, however, do," Amanda said, cradling the book under one arm, and the other holding her sword. She stuffed the book into the pocket of her jacket and sat down.  
  
"What do you need it for?" Remy asked, puzzled, finding a comfortable spot to sit on the sloped roof of the chateau next to her.  
  
"Have you ever heard of something called the Externals," Amanda asked, wondering as she did so, if his knowing Candra was just a ploy to stall for time so he could steal the book back from her.  
  
"Yeah. So. It don't make no difference to me if she be an External. Dey just got longer life-lines, and strange agendas," Remy shrugged. "But how's dat explain you, mademoiselle?"  
  
"Okay, granted you know about them, but can you tell him if they really are Immortal?"  
  
"Immortal? Don' know fo' sure, but dey could be."  
  
"You've never heard her mention anything about something called the Gathering? Or the Game?" Amanda pressed.  
  
"Game? Gathering? When Candra sent me to retrieve her book from de Watchers, she did mention that dey were a secret society dat's been round for centuries, committed to chronicling lives of Immortals. Don't know if dat's true or not. But it could be. I've been around long enough to realize dat just about anyt'ing is possible. And I've seen some strange stuff in my time. Why not, Immortals?"  
  
"Well, I'm not sure if you'll believe this or not, but I'm Immortal," Amanda whispered.  
  
Remy nodded. "Then what's with the sword?"  
  
"You're not gonna protest, or stammer in perplexed astonishment? I know it's sounds pretty crazy." Amanda sighed. "From what I can tell, Candra is an Immortal, just not the same kind as me, and others..." Amanda trailed off, wondering just how much she should tell him.  
  
"Others?" Remy wondered.  
  
"Some good, some evil, but there are many shades of gray in between as there are layers in an onion. In any case, Immortals have been around for several thousand years. The forces of good always squaring off against the forces of darkness."  
  
"And where do you fall on dis...somewhere in de gray?" Remy guessed.  
  
"The Gathering is here, where we're supposed to fight to the death, until eventually there will be only one left," Amanda replied, ignoring his comment.  
  
"One left? Don't sound like immortality is all its cracked up to be," Remy replied. "Which brings us back to the book."  
  
"I have a friend I know I can trust to hold onto the book," Amanda remarked.  
  
"I was supposed to give the book back to Candra," Remy half-heartedly protested.  
  
***************  
  
Conclusion  
  
"Did you retrieve the book, my love?" Candra eagerly asked, her hair flying behind her in her rush to the door.  
  
"Uh, no." Remy replied, knowing Candra was liable to have a temper tantrum when she found out he'd had the book in his hot little hands, and had allowed it to slip away. Might as well stick with the truth, as much I can anyway  
  
"What! I thought you were a consummate thief! How could you do such a thing! You certainly should never have returned without my book, thief! " Candra hysterically shrieked, her brow wrinkling in frustrated anger, then let loose with a hot pink bolt of psionic energy.  
  
"Ah cherie, you haven't changed a bit, so quick to use your telekinetic powers. Still as temperamental as ever, and even more beautiful," Remy said in flattering, mollifying tones.  
  
"Do not try your Cajun charm, mutant! It does nothing for me!" Candra shrieked, but relented a little bit.  
  
"Maybe not, but there was a time," Remy shrugged.  
  
"That time is long past, thief! You never were very good at commitments, were you, Remy? No loyalty to anyone but yourself," Candra chided, having calmed down over the loss of the Chronicle. "Not so fast, my handsome one. Perhaps an exchange for services rendered, an arrangement could be made. I suppose you left the book right where it was?"  
  
"Got no interest in any your propositions, cherie..." Remy trailed off, ignoring her remark about the chronicle, since Amanda had persuaded him that it would be safer in the hands of a someone she felt could be trusted.  
  
"I've finished my work for you, Cherie," Remy defensively replied.  
  
"We'll meet again. In the meantime, I want you to live with the consequences of your actions," Candra warned. "Leave now, before I come to my senses and have you killed." 


	2. Chapter 2 Half-Life

****

Disclaimer: Highlander: the Series and all related characters, events, and concepts and who appear here or are mentioned, belong to Rysher Television, Davis/Panzer Productions and their respective creators. They are not mine, only borrowed for the story. No money is made off of this. You know the drill. Some references will be made to the second season episode, "_The Legacy_."

****

Disclaimer: Gambit, Storm, and the X-Men and all other characters are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group Inc, and do not belong to me. Some references are made to rather older back issues of Uncanny X-Men #266 and #276 which were Gambit's first appearance in the X-Men comic books. This is the sequel to my previous story: "_Year of Living Dangerously". If I stray from continuity, please bear with me._

**"Half-Life" by Karen**

__

Cairo, Egypt

"You could often tell quite a bit about a city by the way they build their roofs," Gambit thought to himself perched on ledge of a tall sky-scrapper, as he stared out over the hodgepodge of roofs, from single story dwellings, to taverns, to single story chalets, to the domed silver-gilt mosques of the houses of worship. Space was at a premium, so it its inhabitants were forced to build upwards, or subdivide what they already had into smaller and smaller compartments. All the buildings were lit up as bright as day by lights of a its several million inhabitants. It was odd, he thought to himself, that once you moved beyond the city limits, right outside the urban world were the pyramids of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs. "Look at moi. Here I am half-way around the world from home in the Big Easy, and I'm playing gargoyle. Need to be movin' on. Gotta a job to do."

With that Gambit levered himself to his feet in one smooth, easy motion and gracefully leaped from roof to roof and then slid down the fire escape to the mansion below that he'd cased earlier. He didn't know who the mansion belonged to, only that it held a fortune in stolen artwork all procured through the black market. Not that he cared. "What could be easier," he thought to himself," as he picked the lock in a matter of seconds and began to go inside.

Meanwhile, Amanda, who also considered herself something of an expert on architecture knelt at the edge of an outdoor reflecting pool and debated on which of the available points of entry would be the best option, when she collided with another person with apparently similar intentions.

"You lost?" the man said in a low drawl. His speech sounded like honey laced with cigar smoke. She thought it sounded familiar, if only she could recall the last time she'd heard it. Still, after several lifetimes he ability to attach names with voice was not

't what it used to be. The accent was very thick, but he most definitely did not sound like a local.

"Why thank you, you broke my fall perfectly," Amanda smiled, trying to use her well-stocked supply of charm on this stranger. His back was half-turned to her and she could only catch a glimpse of him in profile. He released his grip on her and eyed her in the light on the torches above the entryway of the mansion.

"You!" Remy whispered, his breath having been momentarily knocked out of him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Amanda demanded, picking herself and dusting off her clothes. "He should really consider wearing dark glasses, those red on black eyes of his are a dead giveaway." she thought to herself. "Why are you following me?" 

"I was about to ask you the very same thing," Gambit grinned.

"Look, I don't remember if I thanked you, when you came to my rescue before," Amanda began, "This is my take, "so just butt out."

"Well, you know, Amanda, "I'm really not prepared to do that," Gambit smiled.

Amanda felt her resistance melting away in the wake of that smile. "What is about that accent and that smile?" He is so good looking. That's trouble, I suspect he's well aware of that."

"So how do you want to play this?" Amanda demanded.

****

Elsewhere, a girl with a fall of snow-white hair that was almost silver in the moonlight, peered around a corner and froze in place like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. In another time she had once been called Storm, for her ability to control the weather. Now reduced to body of a twelve year old by the design of an automaton called Nanny and her cyborg assistant, the Orphan Maker, she was back in her native Cairo on the run for an old nemesis from her past, the Shadow King. The dust of the city streets caught in her lungs. She coughed until it felt like she would never stop. Ororo tried to muffle it in her hood, because she could sense the ones who hunted her on her trail. She had eluded pursuit and capture so far, but it was only a matter of time before the Hounds found her hiding spot. The hounds she could deal with, it was their master that frightened her. The Shadow King's real name was Amahl Farouk, he was a mutant with frightening mental abilities who found the evil in men and women's heart and twisted them into a horrible animal/like version of themselves. With every fiber of her being she did not want to end up like that. It wasn't a fate one would wish on even their worst enemy. She squared her shoulders against the wall of the alley. She kept moving, hoping to stay one step ahead of them.

Reaching what she assumed to be an abandoned mansion storm climbed the ivy-choked walls finding hand and foot holds. Once on top, she looked out over an indoor pool lined with plants. She felt pressure from behind and turned around to see a hound with its red and blue bodysuit lined with spikes nudging at her heels. She concentrated and aimed a blast of lightning at the creature, it struck and collapsed to the ground below. Ororo lost her balance and landed with a splash into the pool. Shaking her head, she splashed her way to the side and climbed out of the water. She faced the hounds again and let loose more lightning bolts from her hands, knowing that she could not keep this up for much longer.

****

Amanda saw flashes of lightning coming from the mansion she was considering breaking into. She muttered a curse under her breath in Latin, figuring that another Immortal had already gotten there ahead of her and beaten her to the punch. "It must be the Quickening. What else could cause that much lighting and broken glass?"

"If you say so," Gambit shrugged, he rushed inside at full tilt.

"Wait! You have no idea what you're dealing with!" Amanda shouted after his retreating form, but received no response. Amanda whispered a silent good luck and grimaced. She kept telling herself that he probably wouldn't welcome her help anyways. "If it's another Immortal, I'm sitting this one out. Time ticked by, Amanda swore again than ran after Gambit, thinking as she did so, "I must be completely mad."

***

__

Inside

Ororo was exhausted and desperate, the hounds were everywhere, snapping at her.

She tried summoning more and more of her winds and lightning bolts, but her control over her elemental powers was nowhere near complete, and here and there a few lightning bolts kept fizzling out, like duds.

"Who are you?" Ororo asked, seeing a man in a long brown duster coat appear and begin throwing glowing spikes in the midst of the pack of hounds, scattering them. With a magician's sleight of hand Gambit flipped even more throwing spikes out of his sleeve, using his mutant abilities to charge it with energy. The ordinary piece of metal struck and exploded with the force of an cannonball.

In the back of her mind her thoughts were in a whirl. "Easier by far to tell what he does here. He's obviously he's a thief, like me. And the woman, also a thief. The owner of this house had those paintings stolen, to add to his private collection. I meant to take them back and return where they rightfully belonged, even though I knew it was a trap designed by the Shadow King to ensnare me, but now I am not so sure."

Gambit didn't know who the girl was, only that she was in trouble. 

"Bonjour. I can see that I'm out of my league here. Why bother trouble." Gambit began in soothing, convincing tones. The hounds sat on the floor and stared with at 

him with wide liquid attentive eyes. "A wise man knows when to fight and when to leave to fight another day. Why don't we call it a draw, that way no one's feelings are hurt."

"They're spellbound by his voice," Ororo whispered, "This is my chance to make good my escape."

"You a mind-reader?" Amanda griped, start to back-pedal. This whole night was obviously a wash, so it was time to cut her losses and get the hell out of there. At the last instant she came up short as she realized that all possible escape routes were cut off.

"No!" a loud baritone voice boomed out. "But I Am!"

They all looked up to see a well-built older Egyptian man leaning over the ledge of an upper floor balcony that lined the room. He smiled an evil-grin, a vague thinning of his lips. "Very snappy patter, my friend. That's a talent of yours I could find much better uses for," he mimed the cutting of a throat by slashing his hand across his neck, "That is, after you gone through my orientation session." he laughed. It was a horrible choking laugh.

Gambit picked up a random knick knack from a table and charged up with his mutant ability to kinetically charge objects, in same motion he brought his arm back about to throw it in the direction of the man, when a searing pain started at the base of his skull and worked its way around his head like a snake. He screamed and toppled backwards.

"Leave him alone!" Ororo shouted, hurtling another lightning bolt at the man, once it struck he toppled backwards among the dust and rubble of what left of the balcony.

Amanda went over to Gambit, and gently rolled him over, his eyes were open and they glinted in the moonlight. "You alive?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he muttered, grunting with the pain of a lingering headache.

"Well, good," she whispered back, helping him to his feet.

"This is my chance, while they are distracted. Ororo said. "Stand near me, and I will use my winds to get us out of here."

"Come again?" Amanda asked, moving closer to the white-haired girl, intrigued in spite of herself.

"Hold on tightly to me, " Ororo ordered.

"Don't get any ideas, mister," Amanda cautioned waving one finger in front of his nose, "She's just a kid, although she talks a lot better than you do for someone her age."

"Let us discuss this somewhere a little less noisy," Ororo stated and using her powers created a smokescreen that blinded the hounds and their master. 

Scene 3 _Outside on the roof_

"The stolen paintings were just an excuse, that's not what you're really after is it?" Gambit demanded, pivoting on his heels in one smooth motion and turning to confront Amanda.

"I wish you would stop it. I…" Amanda trailed off.

"No. But I can read you, Mademoiselle. "Tell me de truth."

"What truth?" Amanda replied, stalling for time, her fingers tapping on the hilt of her sword that she had hidden underneath her long black duster coat.

"Does this have anything to do with that glowing crystal around your neck?" Gambit asked.

"I've never seen it do that before," Amanda replied, grasping the chain that held the crystal securely around her neck. "I wonder what's causing it. Maybe it's telling me that the other fragments are somewhere nearby."

"Why are you interrogating this woman about her jewelry?" Ororo wondered.

"Dunno," Gambit replied. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Idiot," Ororo muttered.

"We must leave. Now," Ororo stated, folding her arms across her chest.

"You've got my vote there," Amanda replied.

Storm used her control over the winds to strap herself into a parachute, and with Amanda andGambit clinging onto her for dear life, she soared up into the sky as gracefully as kite on a spring day and carried them away from the chaos, fire and smoke.

"How long can you keep this up?" Amanda shouted to be heard over the wind, trying not to make the mistake of looking down and seeing just how far up in the sky they were, or how far it was if they were to fall.

"I am not certain," Storm replied, her breath coming in and out in little gasp with the strain of the effort of keeping them all aloft and headed in the general direction of the deserted junkyard that she called home for now. "Quiet please, I must concentrate."

__

Later

They landed in the deserted junkyard that Ororo called home. Ororo unstrapped herself from the parachute and tucked back into a chest where she kept her valuables. Glancing at the man and woman who had accompanied her, she shook her head and stumbled over to the pallet covered with blankets that she used as her bed. 

"So that's where you got the parachute, chere," Gambit commented walking over to inspect the plane. "Not much to look at it, but mebbe with a little work we can get it flying again."

"For the record, I'm only along for the ride," Amanda said. "I'm here for one thing, and one thing only. The other fragments of this crystal I'm wearing around my neck,' Amanda said, breaking out of her momentary reverie.

"Do you really believe the legend to be true," Ororo asked. "According to the Biblical story, Methulesa was a man who lived to be almost one thousand years old."

"That the completely assembled crystal will give the wearer immortality as well as invulnerability," Amanda nodded. "Yes, I do. Too many lives have already been lost over it." 

"Take it from somebody as should know," Gambit muttered, "Immortality aint' all it's cracked up to be."

"I remember now, it sure didn't make that Candra very happy," Amanda replied.

"You are speaking from firsthand experience," Ororo asked arching one white eyebrow.

Gambit shrugged, "Not for meself, but I be knowin' those that do." In the back of his mind he remembered his long business association with the External, Candra. He winced inwardly and thought back to how badly that had ended when he'd failed to return with some Watcher's chronicle of Candra's life, It's over."

Amanda recalled her old mentor and first teacher, Rebecca, fingering the chain that held the only crystal in her possession, around her neck. Rebecca had been forced to lay down her sword in order to save the life of her mortal husband, John, because another former student of, Luther, had betrayed her. "When this is all over, and once I have the pieces assembled, I'll find him, and make him pay for what he's done."

Scene 5 Flashback

V_erona, Italy 1635_

A well-sprung carriage, pulled by a matched set of dappled white ponies, rattled down the marble plaza, deftly weaving in and out of the crowd of people and other conveyances by its driver. Inside, Rebecca and her student, Amanda had their heads bent close together. 

"Understand this: The world wants to assign you a role in life. And once you accept that role you are doomed. Your power is limited to the tiny amount allotted to the role you have selected or have forced upon you. An actor, on the other hand, plays many roles. Enjoy that power, and if it is beyond you, at least forge a new identity, one of your own making, one that has no boundaries," Rebecca explained.

"I do not understand," Amanda blurted, confused, but intrigued. "Are you saying I should explore a career in the theater?"

"Those who know you best, will understand that that this male persona is merely a role to move about freely in this society." Rebecca said, smiling. "In private she will remain yourself.".

Right then and there, Amanda came up with a strategy. She would recreate herself utterly, forging a public image of her own making. She would play the part of a man. She wore men's clothes before creating her puesednoym, men's shirts and riding breeches. She added long men's coats, gray hats, heavy boots, and dandyish cravats to her wardrobe. 

"Your new identity will protect you from the world precisely because it is not you, it is a costume you put on and take off. You need not take it personally. And your new identity sets you apart, gives you theatrical presence. Those in the back row can see you and hear you. Those in the front row marvel at your audacity." Rebecca said, tilting forward as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. The driver cracked his whip and was about to yell to those within if they were all right when they both heard shots being fired from a pistol. "What is going on out there?" Rebecca demanded, shoving her flowery hat aside, and reached forward for the door handle. Amanda rattled the handle of the door on her side of the carriage, and tumbled out, cursing the long skirts that were fashionable here in Verona now.

Coming into her line of sight were a trio of masked men all wearing dark clothes and masks over their faces, domino masks like the ones worn by the actors in theater, except these were all black instead of patterned in red and black diamonds like those of the actors. The tell-tale "Buzz" that signaled the presence of another Immortal started at the base of her neck, she tensed, and wondered if she'd left her sword inside on the carriage seat.

Just then, the leader of the highway robbers lowered his pistol and removed his mask.

"Amanda, how nice to see you again." It was Luther, another of Rebecca's students, one she did not much care for.

"What do 'you want?" Amanda demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

Luther smiled, "Why, the same thing you do, I suspect. Those lovely crystals that our mentor has in her treasure trove."

"You each have already been given a fragment of the crystal, Luther." Rebecca said, "You know I can not afford to play favorites."

"Is that so?" Luther began to slowly approach Rebecca, out of the corner of his eye he glanced at Amanda. "You will do nothing to interfere."

"Rebecca!" Amanda screamed, as Luther, aimed the gun point blank at her and shot her. "I will be fine." Rebecca whispered.

"Why didn't you fight back.?

"I already promised that I would lay down my sword ," Rebecca replied, "In exchange for sparing the life of my mortal husband, John."

"Because I chose, too," Rebecca snapped. "That should be enough for you." One last thing, you must leave, and I have something to give you before you do."

"What?" Amanda replied, standing up and wondering what she was going to do now.

She knew that Rebecca was dying, but Immortals couldn't die unless you took their heads, so why was Rebecca making such a production out of this incident. Then it struck her, Rebecca was sending her away, and was trying to say goodbye.

"This is the Methuselah's Stone. It will protect the wearer from harm," Rebecca whispered, "Take it." 

"I can't." Amanda realized she was sobbing.

"Leave, and take the crystal," Rebecca insisted, thrusting the white shard into her student's hands. "It's up to you know to decide what you do with it."

*end flashback*

__

Scene 6 

Amanda shook her to clear of the lingering memories of the past. She leaned back in her seat, and was a bit startled to see the Ororo, her white hair covering hacked short with a dull knife, shaking her and shaking her.

"Are you all right, Amanda?" Ororo asked, "It looked you had left us."

"No, I'm fine," Amanda smiled. "Nice kid. Wonder what she does for fun around here when she's not running for her life." she thought to herself. "Are we there yet?"

"I be just de pilot, your de the one with the glowing compass," Gambit muttered from his position at the helm of the small plane.

"Someone's in a bad mood," Amanda grinned, pulling the crystal on its chain out of her clothes and grasping it in both hands. "I think we should land over there?" Amanda said, coming forward and pointing out the main window of the cockpit.

"What is that building?"

"The National Museum," Ororo replied., indicating with a wave of her hand that they should land on the roof. Once they were down, she led them in the direction of the ventilation system and the shaft the led down into the building. "This will be the quickest route inside."

"I guess you know what you're doing," Amanda sighed.

"No, not really," Ororo replied.

"Oh," Gambit nodded and followed them inside.

****

It was too late at night for anyone to be around, even the security guards were fast asleep in their chairs by the entrances. Ororo glanced back to see if the others were still behind her. They were, she brought a finger up to her mouth as a signal to keep silent. She had told them the truth, she'd never been to this museum before, or any others like it, although she'd looked in the windows when the exhibits were lit up, and the curators led tours around.

Amanda glanced around with interest at the gold exhibits on display, as well the tombs and other artifacts, although she was into collecting antiquities, , much she dealt with as a jewel thief involved other regions of the world, still it never hurt to look," she thought to herself.

Gambit followed behind them, wondering if there were really anything to find a museum.

***

Several hours later, they'd covered three floors and 15 different rooms, and nothing.

Just then, Amanda felt the crystal around her neck begin to grow warm and she shook her head to relieve it of a lingering headache. In the dim lighting it glowed green and twisted out of her grip and pointed south direction, in other words, down. Amanda took the lead and they found themselves facing a blank wall, Amanda approached the door and the crystal's light gradually began to form the outlines of a door.

"Does that rock do anything else," Gambit muttered, and approached the door as well.

"Here, I'll blow up de door.." he trailed off, beginning to charge up a playing card, when Storm came near him and grabbed his hand forced the card out of his grip. "What?  


"You will do no such thing," Ororo said, "This is public property." 

While he glared at her the door opened of its own accord. "Nice," Amanda muttered, "how very cheery and welcoming." The crystal glow became fainter, and then went out completely.

***

"Shall we?" Ororo offered, taking the lead. "It's my quest, why does she have to lead?" Amanda griped, following the now lifeless crystal.

Gambit just shook his head, "Mebbe dat's de way she is."

It got darker the deeper that they went, Amanda couldn't help jumping even thought she knew that the invisible door was bound to slam shut behind them once they were through to the other side, still when it went bang, she was startled.

"Who know dey had tunnels down here," Gambit said, holding up a glow playing card to provide light to see by, "I see de look in your eyes, Stormy, and don't worry, this is just we can see where we're going. I'm not going to blow anything up."

"Play nice, kiddies," Amanda couldn't help burst out laughing. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been around two people arguing who was going to blow something up.

"How do you do that?" Amanda asked, indicating the glowing playing card in Gambit's hand. "Don't tell me, but it's more than just sleight of hand, right?"

"Oui, Chere," Gambit nodded. "You gonna tell me too not to call you cher?"

"No," Amanda sighed, "Unlike Stormy, or whatever she wants to go by right now, I know better."

The tunnels were carved right out of the bedrock on which the museum had been built. It was cold, damp, and dark down here. Niches ran along on either side of them, and floor of the tunnel was smooth and kept sloping at a downwards angle.

They traveled in silence for a while, when the crystal began glowing again, they turned a corner and came up short. "Maybe we should tie ourselves together, in case we get separated," Amanda suggested. "Anyone think to bring a rope?"

"Non," Gambit replied, turning around to face her, " "What's up?"

Amanda whistled, "Check that out!" she pointed towards an intact circular alabaster table . The exquisite table sitting right in the center of the subterranean chamber. It had been inscribed with a list of offerings and blessings for the owner of the tomb. On the western wall of the tomb, the direction the sun god, Ra descends to traverse the underworld and arise renewed in the east, at dawn, there was a false door carved into the limestone through which the deceased's soul can join Ra on his heavenly barge.

The false door's lintels were inscribed detailing the various titles of the owner of the tomb: including doctor, and entertainer of the royal court, and assuring him life, strength through all eternity.

"Well, that's not what we were looking for," Amanda trailed off.

Gambit

Ororo glided forward in a trance and reached for some of the various tools left lying on the surface of the table, her hand outstretched, and grasped an amulet in the form of a looped cross. "An ankh?" Ororo said, picking it up and turning it over and over in her hand. It was gold and it glinted in dim light of the torches left in the their holders above the door way that Ororo used her powers to light. The white stones that she had at first taken to be diamonds, matched the ones in the amulet that Amanda wore. "We have found what are seeking, my friends!" Ororo shouted in excitement.

"And I have found what I was seeking as well!" a loud baritone voice shattered the silence of the tomb. "Welcome, my intrepid explorers, Amal Faurok, at your service," the man bent low at the waist, with his hand over his heart. "Storm, Ororo, knows me better as the Shadow King.

"This guy certainly gets around," Amanda complained. He certainly didn't feel like any Immortal or pre-immie that she had ever encountered, but whatever he was it was making her 'Buzz'; the signal that warned Immortals of the presence of others of their kind, sort of like an early-warning system. "I must be exhausted, that's the only explanation," she muttered under her breath.

"How did you find me?" Storm demanded, her fear giving a tremble to her voice.

"I'll take those crystals, now. I must thank you for going to all the trouble to retrieve them for me," the Shadow King said, holding out both hands, expecting immediate delivery and compliance with his orders.

"Not a chance," Amanda yelled, drawing her sword from underneath her black coat.

Gambit drew his bo-staff with one hand, and with the other shuffled the deck of playing cards he hidden in various coat pockets.

"You would all seek to defy me," The Shadow King asked, surprise in his voice.

"That goes without saying," Gambit replied. "You won't be taking anything from us," and with that he let fly a full complement of kinetically charged playing cards, which struck the self-proclaimed Shadow King head-on. He was singed and forced back several paces. He slammed into the wall, and staggered to his feet. With a gesture of his hand, he summoned the hounds who accompanied him.

Amanda kept her hand clenched around her sword, "Come on, you ugly as sin, guys,"

"No way this is anything like fight another Immortal. How did I ever get myself into this mess?" she thought to herself, even as she did so, she whacked them on the side of their heads and flanks with the flat of her sword and knocked them back several paces, listening as they whined with pain. Turning to Storm, she watched as the girl brought both arms up and with the palms spread open and let loose with several blindingly bright bolts of lightning. "You know, we just might win this one, after all.

"Try not to bring this place down around our ears, okay?. I'm not ready to buried here," Amanda whispered nervously taking a quick glance around the chamber.

Storm just nodded and kept up with the lightning, Gambit , having run out of cards, picked up loose rocks, charged them up, and threw them at the hounds.

"Ororo, Ororo, " the Shadow King said in mollifying tones, "If I may quote the Immortal Bard," he glanced around, "Well, if there are no objections," he continued, '"How sharper than a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful child,'. I do think King Lear said it best. I would given you the world, instead you choose to defy, and brought your allies into this. Now, they will share your fate." With that he let loose a mental blast of energy. 

"Look out!" Ororo shouted.

"Huh?" Amanda asked, instinctively ducking, and dropping to the floor, so that the mind blast missed her.

Gambit having already experienced being on the receiving end of one of these mind blasts, braced himself for the impact, as it were the blast hit with a glancing blow, and gave him a piercing headache. "I be feelin' that in de morning," he muttered to himself under his breath.

"It is time to end this,!" Ororo shouted, and swirled up the dust and the winds under her command and blew the hounds and their master down an adjoining tunnel, where the ceiling collapsed. "That will not hold them for long! Amanda I have secured the crystals! We must leave now!"

"You'll get no arguments from this corner," Amanda replied, standing up and dusting herself off. She went over to Gambit, and helped him to his feet. He looked dazed and he was bleeding from his left ear. "Think you can make it?" she asked.

"Yeah," Gambit replied. "I have to, right?"

"Let's get out of here," Amanda nodded.

Scene 7 _Conclusion_

Later

"You have no idea how glad I am to be out of those tunnels," Amanda said, blinking as her eyes slowly adjusted to the change from darkness to light. "Where do we go from here?" Amanda asked.

"Do you really want to do that, chere?" Gambit asked.

"Have you heard of something called the X-Men?" Ororo asked. "We will need to return to America to tell you more about them. And let us get one thing straight, please address me as Storm."

"X-Men. I be liking the sound of that," Gambit replied, shrugging, checking his duster for the deck of playing cards he remembered having, wondering if he'd dropped them during the fight.

Can I call you Stormy? It fits you."

"My name is not Stormy," Ororo said mock-severely. "You may call me Storm or Ororo," she added, folding her arms, and turned to Amanda.

"Amanda, you are welcome to return to the United States with us, " Ororo offered.

"No thanks, "Amanda replied. "I appreciate the offer, but I've got enough weirdness in my life, and I still have a quest left incomplete." In the back of her mind she had to admit to herself that she couldn't have pulled this off without their help.

"Understood," Ororo nodded.

"I'll be moving on," Amanda said, turning to Gambit, "You really are charmer, you know that?" Amanda remarked, moving forward and landing a lingering kiss on his lips. She laughed at the surprised look on his face.

"You are incorrigible," Ororo smiled. "Have I mentioned that already?"

"Non," Gambit shrugged his red on black eyes glowing. "Where will you go?"

"I haven't decided yet. I was thinking about returning to Paris," Amanda replied.

"If that's where you fell you must go, then do not let us stop you," Storm said.

"We could got to New Orleans, Stormy.. Ah Storm," Gambit said.

"You two sort this out," Amanda laughed. "You take care of her, and I think you'll provide a nice foil for each other."

"Now who's de mind-reader?" Gambit arching one eyebrow, then gave her a hug.

"Farwell, Amanda," Storm added. "Watch yourself."

"Always," Amanda replied, walking off in the direction of the nearest 4-star hotel, one hand in her pocket where she could feel the hard outlines of the two additional crystals they had found in the catacombs underneath the museum. She glanced back at the last minute to see Gambit and Storm waving at her, she waved back, then she watched them climb into the plane and take off into the dawn sky.

.


	3. Loopholes

****

Disclaimer: Highlander: the Series and all related characters, concepts and events are the property of Rysher Television; Panzer/Davis Productions and their respective creators, and producers, they are not mine nor is any money made from this.

Gambit, Storm, Nanny, the Orphan Maker, Belladonna, and Sabretooth, belong to Marvel Entertainment Group Inc. Note: Some events refer back to the X-Men # 33. Ancient history, I know, but bear with me.

Note: Takes place shortly after where **"Half-Life**" left off. Again a good time interval is taken into account.

**"Loopholes" by Karen**

Prologue

Methos brought the metallic silver rental car into the only available space, muttering under his breath as back fender bumped alongside of the green SUV. He knew the crowds would be something fierce and they would have been better off walking instead of driving, but he had wanted to spare Alexa as much walking as possible. After their last trip to Florence, Italy Alexa spent the latter half of the trip resembling a raccoon what with the dark circles shadowing her eyes. Alexa had slept for most of the road trip with her feet tucked under folded legs and a swathed in a blanket.

Once Methos turned the key in the ignition he maneuvered the vehicle as close to the curb as possible in the narrow street. Unfastening his seat belt he leaned over and tapped Alexa on her left shoulder. "Honey, wake up." At first she didn't respond and turned around. "We're here."

Tossing aside the blanket, she glanced up. "The French Quarter?" Alexa yawned and wriggled out from under the blanket, leaning down to the floor of the passenger side of the car and lifting up a pair of black leather pumps with modestly high heels. She slipped them in one smooth move, the chestnut shoulder length hair falling to cover her hazel eyes.

"Yeah," Methos muttered, wondering when he had ever allowed himself to this much about anyone or anything, it hurt too much when they were gone, or when they were suffering. For all his centuries, just once while he was with her, it was easy to brush aside the confusing tangle of remorse mixed in with the keen-edge razor sharp instinctive need to survive at any cost; then in the back of his mind. _'She only gets one lifetime while I've lived dozens over and over again. Why the hell should I get to keep living and living when she only gets one and it's about to end at any second. There has to be something I can do, some cure for this disease that's eating away at her from the inside. It's an invisible enemy. Damn it! One I can't find with my bare hands_!' the thought flashed like heat lightning on a summer morning and fizzled out just as quickly. Out loud. "You'll like the Big Easy."

She smiled up at him and threw open the car door, smoothing down the pleats of her blue and silver spangled sundress. "We'll I've never been here before but I did not spend all my time sleeping while you drove. I did my research."

"All right, " Methos smiled. "Since you seem to know what you're doing, I'll follow your lead. Where to first?" "Research. And here I thought we were specifically on vacation to get away from the research. He teased and reached over to brush away a tendril of auburn hair that had fallen over her hazel eyes.

Alexa laughed then reached into her satchel that she had slung over one shoulder and removed a battered notebook and a map that she thrust into his hands. "We're in the French Quarter, so if we head left down the Bordeaux Ave and then take a left at the plaza."

"If you say so. I've been here before. Can't remember when exactly, but it was probably when all this was being built."

"Oh be quiet," Alexa snapped. This is my first time, so don't ruin it for me."

"I was only pulling your chain," Methos replied, looking down at the cracks in the pavement, feeling a bit remorseful and then a thought occurred to him. "Well, I'll make it up to you. What do you say we stop for a bite to eat that the Commander's Palace. It's a famous Cajun restaurant not far from the plaza and they have a shrimp in garlic sauce dish that's you must try. What do you say?" Methos said, leaning over and kissing her on the lips, a touch as light as the landing of a butterfly on a flower bloom.

"How could I say no to that offer." Alexa smiled and took off down the street at a brisk walk, Methos following along in her wake.

**

The plaza was a giant tiled square enclosed by ante-bellum mansions and storefronts of several stories whose upper banisters bellied out like giant sails of ocean-going ship. Local restaurants and other eating established offered both indoor and outdoor tables for their patrons, and locals stood or sat on their balconies, observing passerby's. Methos and Alexa mingled with the crowd, taking the sights, sounds and smells of the Crescent City.

****

**

Scene 2

At that same instant, Remy and Ororo stepped down from the old-fashioned streetcar, as the driver doffed his wrinkled cap to them. Remy paid the man, and then led Ororo gently by the elbow, to the opposite street corner, when a jazz band had set up an impromptu concert complete with saxaphones, drums, trombones and harmonicas. A 

group gathered around the band, some listening, and some swaying along in time with the music.

****

Ororo did not know what jazz was, although she had listened to Remy explain in that slow drawl of his which just left her as mystified as ever. Ororo could tell good music when she heard it: it was smooth and liquid and it went into the listeners ears like honey going down one's throat. She found herself tapping her booted feet on the pavement while her fingers drummed out the beat on his arm. She could sense the equally strong beat of his heart through the fabric of his the duster coat he wore like a second skin. She could tell that he loved this city and its varied and diverse cultures and history, the way he did his family despite how they treated him. Having lost her own family in disastrous plane crash, she thought she understood, but they were here to have a good time and she could not allow those melachonly thoughts to slow her down.

"Cher," Remy said. "How you doin?"

"I am fine," Ororo replied.

"You'll like this," he added releasing her hand from his sweaty grip and wiping them on the front of his duster jacket. Then he removed a bottle of champagne from one of the many hidden pockets. He tugged at the stubborn cork. Muttering under his breath, the lid finally came off, 

****

"I am not old enough to drink," Ororo said. "Also I do not care much for champagne."

"You always sayin that, Stormy." Try some anyway," he said, handing over the bottle.

"I thought I told you not to call me that. My name is Ororo." She accepted the bottle and wrinkled her nose at the bouquet of the champagne, taking a tentative sip, finding it tangy and sweet on her tongue, and then drank some more.

"Your name can be whatever you decide on, Cher," Remy shrugged, the gesture sending the tangled mass on auburn hair rippling down his back like water disturbed by a pebble thrown into it. Ororo had not known him very long, he hard to figure out like those Chinese finger puzzles she had once seen sold in the marketplaces in Cairo; and as equally hard to pin down. The man had layers and those layers had layers, but one thing she did know, he was kind, had a sense of humor, and made an excellent friend and companion. 

****

"Do you have a plan in mind, or we just making it up as we go along?" she asked.

"De plan, or lack of one, calls for making an orbit of all de major tourist spots on the map, and den we be heading back to the house in de French Quarter come nightfall."

Ororo just nodded. "Indeed."

****

**

Scene 3

  
By the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon line in a wash of pink, cream, red and orange pastel colors, the neon lights came on as if trying to shine brighter than the light of day. Alexa felt, despite how cliched it might sound that she was awake and walked through a dream landscape. A parade of masked revelers had passed by, flinging handfuls of faux gold coins, plastic frogs, and bead necklaces into the crowd. She understood it was meant as a good luck token. It was humid, and even through the light cotton fabric of her sundress she felt the sweat drip down her back, but it was worth it. Methos insisted that they stop for a bit to eat at fancy restaurant, when she would have been just as happy sampling some of the wares being sold by the street vendors because of the tantalizing smell of shrimp, smoke, and tabacco, and others she couldn't identify as readily.

__

****

***

__

Scene 4

Later that evening

The fortune-teller's shop was tucked into a far end of a back street, the building to either side of side it draped with colorful buntings, streamers and ribbons. The first thing that Methos noticed were the mingled scents of incense, lit candles made of beeswax, and sandalwood. When he pushed aside the beaded curtain that hung over the doorway, their entrance was accompanied by the chiming of beads sewn into the satin fabric.

****

Methos sneezed when the incense irritated his nose, and he muttered under his breath to Alexa if she really wanted to go through with this, reminding her that most fortune-tellers, palm readers and tarot card interpreters were nothing but con artists out to make a quick buck from gullible tourists. Alexa winked at him. "I want to do this and nothing say or do will change my mind, you stubborn, cynical old man."

****

"Okay, okay," Methos whispered. "It was worth a try."

The fortuneteller had a bronze plaque displayed on the wall beside portraits of what Alexa assumed were either clients or family members. The shop's interior was dimly lit by candles arranged in a semi-circle and the woman herself sat cross-legged in a leather reclining chair behind a glass table covered by a purple satin cloth. Her black skin glistened in the candlelight, and she greeted them with a wide cheery smile making the lines of her face furrow even more. 

"Greetings and salutations, children, I am Tante Matie, please have a seat anywhere, I'll be with you a moment. I have to rearrange Mr.Greymalkin's placement."

"Who?"

"The cat," Tante replied. "In between client sessions he has a disturbing tendency to get into the tools of the trade. I am uncertain if it's out of sheer mischief or because of the comfort of the location. Come now, you cat, out of there." She reached down, her the layers of her skirt rustling in the silence. She bent down and then straightened up with a slight groan with the sudden shifting of weight and an armful of yowling calico cat. The cat's far was gray with streaks of yellow and orange and splotches of black along its flanks. She gently moved aside to a nearby high-back chair covered with a velvet cushion. She set the cat down with the firm instruction: "Stay put."

Settling back into the leather chair, and turning her penetrating brown-eyed gaze to Methos and Alexa : "Well, what can I do for you folks?"

****

"I," Well, it's like this, " Alexa stammered. "I thought it would be a lark, you know, try and see what immediate future would be like."

"It's more complicated than that," Methos interrupted, placing his hands on the surface of the table. "Alexa's health is dicey right now, and if you're as good as that plaque over your head says you are, then maybe where science failed maybe mumbo jumbo will succeed. You tell us something we don't like then you're in trouble."

"As in, you won't pay me for my services?" Tante replied, serenely. "Show me your palm, child. 

Alexa extended her hand across the span of the table, palm turned upwards all five fingers spread in a fan-like shape. She felt the smooth, dry skin of the older woman as Tante Matie rubbed her hand over her skin, feeling for the groves and lines on it. "How long has she been in ill-health?"

"Long enough." Methos replied.

****

"Aren't you rather young to be so cynical and suspicious? It's like you expect a blow to fall on every second of every waking moment. Tante said. "Child, no one lives forever."

"Hah! " Methos muttered. "You'd be surprised."

****

"Be that as it may," Tante continued. "Despite what others might say of people in my line of work, we do have to learn a thing or to about how the body works and its various humors. Child, I am sorry, I never asked your name."

"Alexa, my name is Alexa."

"Beautiful name. Tante replied, releasing her hand. She removed a stack of taro t cards from a pocket in skirts and arranged face down on the table. She shuffled them with the all the swift motion and nonchalance of a Las Vegas card shark, then turned three face up in front of Alexa and Methos. "The first card represents your past. The card had a gilded border and it showed a seated woman in a blue dress, spun with a spun lace web design on the hem and the sleeves. She was seated in front of a huge oak true, a lute resting in her lap, her fingers poised over the strings.

****

"The second card is your present, the Jack of hearts. The third card is your future." It was blank. "Hmm, that's odd. Allow me a minute to sprinkle some sandalwood on the surface, that will bring the picture out for you."

"It seems that that the powers that be are chary of doling out their wisdom tonight. So take the advice of old woman who has seen her fair share of comings and goings. The future is what you make of it. But for the present, find a house in the French Quarter, I'll write down the address for you."

"And what are what we supposed to do there?" Alexa demanded.

"Find the man represented by the Jack of Hearts," Tante replied.

"Well, that's helpful and cryptic." Methos snapped.

"You'll know him when you find him," Tante smiled. "And no one will be more surprised then he will be, thinking fondly of the young man she had in mind, imagining the wry grin, the auburn hair. She could picture clearly the look in his eyes as if he could always some spark of life in even the strangest and most awkward situations that life threw into his path. "There aren't many walking this world who meet that description."

****

***

Scene 5

A lone, unmarked zeppelin floated through the sky of New Orleans shredding swaths of cloud in its wake. To all appearances it could have a company's advertising blimp left behind after a parade or a sporting event. It bore no marking or logo of any kind and its silver hull was seemed to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect making the surface up close seem rather splotchy and crinkled. Harmless, right? It was a far different story on the inside of the craft, however.

On board the zeppelin, the crew comprised two people, the owner of the craft and her henchman. The two could not have been more mis-matched. The woman, at least she appeared to be a woman, her was black and slicked as the skin of a toad, her black eyes were fixed on the numerous readouts, dials, switches, and glowing indicator lights that kept the craft in the air. She wore an outfit that would not have been out of place in the mansion of a wealthy aristocrat of most industrial nations. Her outfit comprised a short black top and a red dress that came to her knees, covered with lace. . 

****

Her companion stood behind and slightly to her left, his emotionless, metallic face reflected off the monitor screens. To all outward appearances nothing that passed seemed to affect him one way or another. His body was silver, like the blimp. He was an automaton, designed by his creator to obey her every command implicitly, no questions asked. He could feel nothing. In fact, Nanny, for that was her name, where she got it and why she kept when she had broken from her forgotten master's control, would have been very surprised if had felt something for anyone or anything. Except for obeying her every whim, of course.

****

Nanny, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of finally closing in on her prey, wished, that for once she had someone to talk to, someone to share her plans and thoughts with her. Otherwise it was more like talking to a wall. She reached out with her left hand, toggled a switch on the control panel and brought up a split screen image of the various areas of the city on the monitors. On the screen Nanny the object of her obsession: a girl with silver hair and olive skin, with a pair of blue eyes. There were not that many girls in the world matching 'that' description. "Ororo Munroe. You naughty girl, for putting me through all this trouble of tracking you down and bringing you back to my side. It's for your own good." 

She saw Ororo riding in an old-fashioned streetcar. The girl was accompanied by an older man with auburn hair, and red on black eyes. He wore a khaki duster jacket. "You have eluded for many months, little one. And it seems that you have found an ally, but the hunt ends here and then it will all be over." Over her shoulder, "Maker," she commanded, "Reduce speed, one quarter knots and engage cloaking device."

****

******

Scene 6 Encounter

"Well, well," a woman's voice rasped as it floated down a marble staircase that lead up to the upper stories of the mansion. The mansion had looked ponderous from the outside, on the inside it was merely heavy, warm and huge. If it had been necessary, and if had been so inclined, Methos figured he could have successfully waged a full scale harness race complete with harness, carts, matched set of horses, spectators, and judges; and no one would have been the wiser, the place was that spacious. If he was any judge of architecture, and he had had centuries of experience, the owners of the mansion, had fallen on hard times.

****

A woman glided down the stairs; her slim white hand left a streak of in the coating of dust on the banister. He hair was that shade of blonde called platinum, her blue eyes were flat and icy, revealing little but darting piercing glances at everyone gathered in the reception hallway.

Remy shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Hello, Belle."

"Remy LeBeau. As I live and breathe, never did I did not think I'd see you again. Welcome home." Belladonna said. "What you doing back here?"

"Of course, Ororo, dear," Belle replied, shaking her head at the madness that surrounded her in this house. "Well, we can't stand around here jawing all day. Everyone come into the solar, we'll talk more in there. Follow me."

Methos and Alexa, standing in front a giant potted plant that had been allowed to run wild, just exchanged glances. "Alexa, " he said. "We might as well make the best of it.

This is the address Tante Matie told us to seek out, right?"

"It is. I don't think anyone is going to welcome inside and stay for tea, so let's just invite ourselves," Alexa said.

****

****

Scene 6b

The solar turned out to be a room built onto the house at one time and then forgotten. The place was airy and boasted a vaulted roof. During the day allowed light to stream at all hours and angles based on the position of the sun in the sky. The walls were painted off-white and the beveled windows were draped in contrasting shades of emerald green, white, and gray. To Alexa's dazzled eyes it was like they had emerged from the dingy hallway into a spring garden. As run-down and ill-attended, as the mansion had looked from the outside it was apparent that at least someone gave some attention to keep the inside of the house in good repair. 

"Have a seat anywhere you like," Belladonna offered, waving around at the green and gold upholstered sofa and chairs clustered around a wooden coffee table. "I'd offer you coffee but we're fresh out, and I think we're past making polite social talk."

"Never could get anything past you, Cherie."

"Remy, for once in your life, be serious. Belladonna snapped, out of patience.

"The girl I know, these two you've dragged in here on your coattails I don't. Why are they here in our house? They don't belong here and neither do you what with the exile still in effect."

"Exile?" Methos asked. 

"Look, it's obvious you people have some unresolved issues, but can we at least say something in our own defense?" Alexa shouted.

"Yes, Dear," Belladonna sneered.

"That's a very unattractive look for you, " Alexa replied, and instead of ranting and raving at him, maybe you should try asking us directly."

Belladonna sank back into her chair, and sighed. "Very well. Why are you here?"

"That's more like it." Alexa took a deep breath, "It's a long story, but the gist of it is that a local fortune teller named Tante Matie told us to seek out this particular house in this area of the French Quarter and look for the Jack of Hearts."

"She also said we would know him when we found him." Methos added.

Belladonna and Ororo exchanged glances, and in that exchange both agreed that despite their better judgement that this couple was here for the duration. Ororo poked Remy in the ribs. 

"Now we're getting somewhere," Belladonna smirked.

"You!" Methos shouted, nearly falling out his chair. "You're the Jack of Hearts."

"Who? Have we met before?" Remy asked, arching an eyebrow, "Can't say as you have a face that stands out in a crowd, not like moi." Remy added, removing a deck of cards and shuffling throw them until he came to the card in question. It looked just like any other card except for being ragged and crinkled around the edged from frequent handling. 

Methos glanced at the delicate-boned fingers shuffling the cards, the quick motion in and out like the tongue of a snake, and his thoughts shuffled through all the times he had seen _that _expression. "I know I know you. Stop shuffling those damned cards and look at me."

Methos wondered why this suddenly seemed very familiar. It was at that instant he felt a sudden jolt of recognition that slid down his spine. Remy LeBeau removed his sunglasses to reveal a pair of red-on black eyes. 

****

*****

Scene 7 Flashback

Paris, France 1975

Remy LeBeau straddled the chair with his elbows resting on the surface, fingers laced together. Across from him sat his cousin, Henri LeBeau, for the duration of his stay in the city of lights, both his chaperone and his mentor. Remy had never been to Paris before, and the mingled sights, sounds and even smells mingled to have a very dizzying effect on a 17 year old boy that grown up in New Orleans. 

Paris was a waking tour of wonder, around every corner was something that captivated him, or brought tears to his eyes. Meanwhile, Henri, who had paid an annual visit to the City of Lights, found the boy's wide-eye wonder by turns amusing and wearying. Often having to forcibly remove Remy from his dazed trances, all the while telling other people in line, that it was the boy's first visit. At this rate, Henri wondered if Remy would succeed in passing his final exam in his initiation into the New Orleans Thieves Guild being this naïve and transparent, was something Henri just scratched his head and threw up his hands in sheer frustration.

All of which brought his thoughts back to the present. The server came over to their table, order pad in hand. 

  
A short while later, a bowl of fish soup in front of him and a bottle of wine in the center of the table, Henri launched into his task. "The Guild, mon fer, has very strict rules about these sorts of dings."

"You don't need to be lecturin' me, Henri. I know why we're here. I can be serious about this final phase of my training. It's just easier to act de fool sometimes."

"I know de rules.

"No. I don't think you do. Rule #1 I be your chaperone here. That means you do exactly as I say," Henri snapped.

"I'm listening." Remy replied.

"Sometimes I despair of you, boy." With that kind of attitude I don't think ye'll be seeing your 18th birthday. Rule # 2: You've got to pull of de heist with no one the wiser. Did you make contact with de girl?" Henri asked.

"No worries." Remy shrugged. "Better than dat, mon frere. Saved the damsel an' also got a date with her at the same time."

"You say that now. I don't think you realize just what a dangerous profession this is. You could very well be killed." Henri replied.

"Henri, Relax, I know de risk going into dis and de risks, they are acceptable" Remy replied.

"You are a member of the clan through adoption, but as part of de Thieves Guild, you have to earn your place." 

"I know what I'm here to do, Henri. Just got my own way of doing it." Remy said.

"As required by the tracts of Passage, I accompanied you as your sponsor, but if y' fail y'self, you fail me and Poppa, too." Henri bent down and reached into his duffell bag resting on the ground by his chair, removing a section of the Paris newspaper, with the photo of balding man wearing wire-rim glasses and sporting a wrap-around beard. Henri shoved towards Remy. 

****

"This be the pinch. Martin Herzog. A Canadian financier with European Interests, with the girl Genevieve Darceneaux, the daughter of an infamous and imprisoned jewel thief. She stole a very valuable pendant from Herzog, L'eEtoile de tricherie, the Cheating Star."

****

"Get it back from de Cherie, then?" Remy grinned. "Sounds like fun. Sorry, but de pendant wasn't exactly dangling from her fingertips and I have not quite been invited into the lovely lady's boudoir.

"Foolish boy, are you going to get her to fall in love with you so she hands over the pendant?" Henri arched an eyebrow. "You are my brother, Remy, but you are not my blood. You play a game when the pinch is de thing. A dangerous game."

"But Henri, for me, the Pinch is de game! Put y'self in my shoes. Four months shy of my eighteenth birthday when I am to participate in an arranged marriage 'tween de Assassins and de Thieves, let me have some fun while I still can."

****

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Henri shrugged and swallowed the last of the champagne.

****

*

Scene 7b

Meanwhile, Methos straightened up from his seat at the slanted lectern desk in the Sorbonne University and ran his fingers through his dark to coax the snarls out of it, wondering when he had become so vain about his appearance. Glancing into the polished lead-paned windows, he noticed a piece of white paper sticking out of a manila envelope with the unmistakable handwriting of a woman scrawled on it. 'Meet me at midnight at Notre Dame, with love, Genevieve. I have something I wish to show you.'

Methos allowed himself a small grin. He knew she was the daughter of a thief, one of some renown, but he wasn't one to quibble over a small lapse in morals, after all; after a few centuries one had a tendency to make allowances for such things. The translation he was working for the university' dead languages linguistic department would just have to wait. Having made the decision to meet Genevieve at Notre Dame, Methos stuffed his papers, pens, and journals back into a battered leather briefcase and shuffled his way to the double doors, ignoring the other students in the library.

**

__

Later

Methos entered the nave of the cathedral, the candles left for those who cared to offer a vigil or a memorial to the dearly departed, were strangely left unlit. The vaulted arches curving over his head like the bones of some beached and ancient sea creatures. Methos, who knew more than a thing or two about architecture, stopped for a brief second to admire it, then moved on. "Genivive, are you here?"

A growling, menacing voice from overhead replied to his question. "Yeah, she's here. But whoever you are, you will have to wait your turn. I got dibs on the frail and the fellow here." 

Methos froze, fists clenched at his sides. His first thought that flashed like lightning through his mind was that another Immortal was in town and studying his movements, whereabouts, to discover that he and Genevieve were involved, and intent on using the girl as bait, in order to get to him, had faked the note to meet here. The next thing that came to mind, if it was another Immortal on head-hunt, why hadn't he felt the 'Buzz' that would give away his presence. Methos wrinkled his nose, as the cloying smell of wet fur, fear, and sweat wafted in his direction from his far right and directly above him. Methos drew his sword, and moved forward with the grace and silence of a cat.

"Get up here, LeBeau," the voice came out laced with a growl of a large wild cat. "Or they both drop." A large man wearing a bizarre orange and brown custom, which reminded Methos of the outfit worn by the ancient gladiators in the arena of the Roman Emperors. This enormous man held both Genevieve and man he didn't know upside down by means of a rope tied around their ankles. Directly below this odd tableau stood a younger man in a pewter gray duster jacket, his auburn hair tousled.

"Non!" You want de pendant! You threaten their lives for jewelry?" Lebeau shouted, sounding very young and very frightened. "But it was all a game."

"Games are for children, LeBeau. You're in the big leagues now. Here's the deal, you toss the pendant, I catch it. Course I'm a righty, which means I'll have to let go of the rope!" 

"They will fall, this is insanity, Creed!" My brother! The petite."

"Maybe it is. But guess what? You get to choose which one you catch." 

Remy removed a jeweled pendant from the many pockets in his coat and attached it around a bo staff. Methos had to wonder at the insanity of it all. That's when that in the dim moonlight coming in through the windows, LeBeau's eyes glowed an eerie red. He had a choice to make and the end it wasn't much of a choice. And tossed the pendant with an overhand throw. 

Methos had to admit the kid had guts. Games didn't seem that much fun anymore. He was scared. Too bad it wasn't going to do him any good. At that instant Creed let go of the rope. He held the ropes. He had control. Creed. LeBeau. The names meant nothing to Methos.

LeBeau leapt into the air, screaming in protest, scrambling to make a grab for the rope before his brother's and the girl's weight brought them crashing to the floor. Teeth gritted in effort; he grabbed the rope tied around his brother's ankles, skidding to a stop of the marble floor at the last second. With swift movements, he untied his brother and then turned his attention to the girl. Who lay still on the floor, gasping for air. "Genny! Mon dieu! I never thought."

"Remy, Genevieve gasped, I did love you. I would have given the L'Etoile to you…" and then her eyes rolled back and she breathed her last.

Methos moved forward, not sure if he was more angry at himself for not lending a hand, or at this LeBeau character for getting himself into this damned position in the first place. 

"You son of a bitch!" Methos shouted, doubling up his fist and slamming it into the younger man's jaw.

"I deserved that." Remy muttered under his breath, rubbing his jaw where the blow had left a slowly purpling bruise.

"Who are you?" Henri demanded, drawing a pistol from his jacket pocket.

"Does it matter?" Methos replied, ignoring the gun waved in his face. "Yeah, I'm all thrilled your saved your brother's life, but you think you could have managed to save the girl's as well? Or was that asking too much?"

"Enough!" Henri interrupted. "I don't know who you are, nor do I care. Placing the blame will accomplish nothing. Genivive deserves a proper burial. We will see to it. She meant something to you, Sir?"

"You could say that," Methos replied, glaring at everyone.

"Then you will help prepare her for burial. No arguments." Henri stated.

****

*End flashback

******

Scene 8

Present Day

"I'm here to enjoy the spectacle of you making a fool of yourself." Belladonna sipped her tea and lounged back in her chair like a cat on a fence.

"What is that horrible noise?" Alexa wondered, jumping out of her chair and running to a nearby window, as the deafening noise of something crashing and tearing through masonry and trees interrupted their conversation. 

Alexa nearly tore down the green and gray drapes from their holders in her hurry. Outside, descending rapidly, was a silver zeppelin, barreling downwards at full steam.

"I know that ship!" Ororo yelled, her fingers tearing through her silver hair in agitation. "I should have known that I could not escape Nanny and the Orphan Maker for long. How could she find me now?''

"Mebbe she have a homing beacon," Remy replied. He moved over to stand beside her at the window. "Don't worry, Stormy. "We'll send this android and her big metal partner packing, no worries."

"Easier said than done, Mr. LeBeau," Methos snapped, moving towards the gaping hole in wall where the window had once been. He was in time to see a six-foot metal plated automaton lift up and something out of action flick ray gun to its holster, aim and fire directly at him. He ducked the blast. Wondering what the others made of this madness.

****

"You plan to help?" Remy tossed over his shoulder to Belladonna. 

"No." Belladonna stood up and walked over to watch as two figures, one short and stubby, the other tall and angular descended from the landing ramp. She back-pedaled away from the window as a red-hot blast of laser fire blasted a whole in the wall. 

"Ororo's your responsibility, and I know how difficult a concept that is for you, Remy, but do your best."

"Should have seen dat coming, You know something, Belle, I think you're getting soft, that was almost a compliment."

"Oh, shut up!" Belladonna snapped, darting over behind the couch and taking up a defensive position. "Try not and destroy anything in the mansion while you're at. I just had it redecorated."

"Your wish, Cherie," Remy muttered.

"The Nanny? She's running away from her caretaker?" Methos blinked.

"Ah, could someone clue me in here? Alexa demanded, shouting to be heard over the noise of grinding metal and explosions.

At that instant long metallic tentacles descended from the ship overhead and wrapped around Remy's middle twice, pulling him up into the air.

Ororo screamed once. With surprising sped, leapt through the hole in the wall and up into the air, narrowly squeezing through the ship's entry before it slammed shut behind her.

****

"That's different," Methos muttered under his breath, wishing that he had a solid, real target on which to vent his frustrations. He went over to Alexa and took her hand in his. "Maybe, gal, we're not meant to understand what's happening here, but I wish that I did."

****

******

Scene 9a Aftermath

Inside the aircraft Ororo found Gambit chained to a wall, "Release my friend!" 

The squat barrel-shaped android looked up from where she slowly turned a dial on the controls. "There you are, Ororo, dear. Please be patient a moment longer while Nanny finishes up a small task, and I'll be right with you."

"Non," Remy muttered under his breath. "We be finishing this now."

"Children, so in a hurry to die. " Nanny chuckled, a sound that to her listener's ears resembled the low growl of an angry cat, or the steam leaving a boiling teapot. "Hah! Isn't it ironic, young people all think they will live forever, but they're always in a rush."

****

"There is nothing amusing in this!" Ororo interrupted wondering why she suddenly felt faint, a hot flush spreading over the skin of her face. Her short-cropped silver hair stuck to her forehead. At that instant Nanny fixed her optics on her and Ororo felt her thoughts churn, 'I've been here before. Not as a child that I am now, but as an adult!" Why is it so hard to remember? ' 

The Orphan Maker approached her, with a laser gun, poised to fire its deadly bolts of energy. At that instant something inside her snapped, or came back to life. 

Ororo concentrated and suddenly the small cockpit filled with white mist. A bolt of lightning shot from her fingers sending the automaton flying back into the opposite wall, where Remy was chained. The resulting explosion freed his hands, and that was all it took. Remy flexed his slender fingers and with deft wriggling managed to free his right hand enough to charge the remainder of his bindings so it glowed with a red-hot light, snapping it off, he charged it up some and with an overhand throw launched it straight at the android, Nanny. 

Remy untangled himself from the resulting mess of wires, metal and chain, and leapt to his feet, feeling a sudden lurch in his stomach as the aircraft made a sudden descent. Ororo glided over on her own wind currents. "We must leave." The ship is going to crash. "Thank you for rescuing me back in Cairo and again now. 

"You rescued me first."

"Then we're even."

"I am glad I did, cherie. It's been an adventure. **

"Is only beginning," Ororo finished.

"We had best leave, the ship will crash."

No sooner had the words been spoken then they could feel the crippled ship go down at a steep descent. 

The sound of grinding metal and wires echoed throughout the empty space. The sides caved in. The slid along the metal floor and with nothing to hold onto except each other. They were in free-fall with the air in their lungs burning, hair whipping into their eyes. Ororo looked to where to heavy aircraft took a plunge into the waters of the river below. Ororo kept her head down, knowing that they would be next to plunge into the cold waters. She wished that she had learned how to swim. She was warm now both from exertion and fear, soon she would feel the shock of her body hitting the cold water. It far too late to delay the inevitable.

**

They hit the water feet-first and Remy lost his hold on Ororo. Remy went down, spluttering as he swallowed what felt like a gallon of water. The waters of the river closed over his head. He was up a few heart-stopping seconds later, spluttering and calling Ororo's name over and over again, trying to catch sight of her. With strong strokes, Remy swam through the water, looking for her, he caught sight of a bob of silver hair and darted towards her, grabbing her hand, and making for the nearest shore he could find. 

**

****

Afterwards

"You survived," Belladonna said, standing on the river's edge, arms folded over his chest and a grim smile on her lips.

"Don't tell me you were worried," Remy grinned back at her.

"Let's just say, that I would have been very disappointed if you hadn't. A part of me will love you still, despite everything that's happened between us, but I don't know if would happier if you had died up there." Belladonna replied.

"Bully for you!" Methos snapped, "I think that under the circumstances we have been very patient. But we're not here to enjoy the show, while it's been rather entertaining watching the pair of you play action hero, but… Hey, did you get taller in the last 45 minutes, Ms. Munroe?"

****

"I did," Ororo replied, grinning. "I am Ororo Munroe, Storm of the X-MEN." Now that Nanny's power over is broken, I am slowly regaining my true adult form."

"Huh?" Methos replied, shaking his head. "Never mind that, what about us? We came here because some old fortune teller told us we would find the answers we were seeking at this particular place and time, and so far all we have are more questions."

"Alexa, do you know what he's talking about?" Ororo asked.

"Tante Matie, the fortune teller's name was Tante Matie."

"Relax, Mr. I don't recall that you ever mentioned your name, " Belladonna narrowed her blue eyes, "Why is that? What are you afraid of?" You're obviously running from or to something. The Big Easy is made for people like** you."**

"Oh for the love of a name. If you must know the names, Pierson, Adam Pierson, and this is Alexa, but you already know that."

"How dare you insinuate that we're on the run, like common criminals," Alexa snapped, coughing out phlegm in her throat, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her sundress, "Excuse me. Go on. I'm better now."

"You don't know, Jack. And speaking of Jack, I would appreciate knowing why Mr. Card Shark over there has to say about why he knows Tante Matie."

"She be a member of the Guild of Thieves," Remy replied.

****

"Let's go inside the house again. I know just to do," Belladonna stated and went over to a carved wooden armoire standing beside a grandfather clock. She removed a key from a pocket of her dress and removed a velvet pouch. Returning to her seat in the leather couch, she took out a small glass vial, handing it over to Alexa.

****

*****

Conclusion

"Look, I know family's important, but this is absurd."

Remy muttered something inaudible.

"What! Speak up. I can barely understand you when speak in a normal tone of voice what with the Cajun drawl, so how am I supposed to understand when mumble and garble, damn it!" Methos shouted.

"I said she ain't' my sister, she's my ex-wife." Remy stated.

"Oh, 'that' explains everything," Alexa muttered.

****

"Belle, Remy whispered, approaching her they way one would a tame but still unpredictable wild cat. "Is dat what I think it is?" Are you sure about this, Cheri? I might do worse than kill her.

****

"I realize that, you idiot. If the girl is dying, and from what I understand she's tried all other available remedies, this might be her last chance," Ororo said. "It is her decision."

"What is it?" Alexa whispered. "I'm the one whose life is in the balance, don't you think I deserve to know what's going on."

"Dis be the Elixir of Life," Remy replied.

"Elixir," Suddenly I'm not so sure this is a good idea. Alexa, maybe we should look elsewhere."

  
"Dis stuff be potent, it might cure her, it might now. If it does cure her it might take away all her memories, " Remy replied.

"The cure gives people amnesia?" Methos snorted. "You'll excuse me if I find that hard to believe. Oddest side effect that I've heard of, and I've been around."

****

Alexa felt a wave of dizziness come over here and the vial of Elixir almost dropped to the ground. "I made my decision. I am going through with this." 

"Are you sure? 

"Don't second-guess me, Methos. I have made up my mind." With that Alexa removed from the stopper. "How much?" 

"Just a sip." Belladonna advised**. **

Alexa moved the vial to her lips, eyes narrowing in expectation, she swallowed a small bit of the green liquid, feeling it go down her throat, it taste like nutmeg and vinegar, and odd combination but not unpleasant. One sip, and then felt rather than saw Belladonna snatch the bottle from her hands in the instant before she lost her grip and it crashed to the floor. Her body felt tingling all over and her felt as if her head with her consciousness in it floated about six feet above her body, while it went through some not unpleasant sensations and she was a mere observer. She saw her body arch in spasms, sweat matting her hair to her forehead, while Methos gently brushed it away. Alexa suffered more convulsions and for instant she worried that cure wouldn't work, that it was all smoke and mirrors. Then the burning sensation went away, and two halves of her consciousness, the one undergoing the painful convulsions and the one watching both lost their hold and plunged into blackness. 

When both had been joined again, Alexa raised her hands, Methos fingers linked with her, and while she appreciated his presence and that he cared for her, she wanted to have her hands free to feel again, the soft weave of the carpet beneath, when she had fallen out of her chair and onto the carpet; they hadn't moved her. A blur images passed through her mind, the jazz bar in Seacouver, Washington where she had briefly worked as a waitress to pay for school, her first time she met had met Methos, the small apartment on campus where she kept her easel and painting supplies. Losing her memory apparently wasn't going to be a problem. Good. When she could feel all of her extremities, Alexa gradually realized that someone was shaking her.

"Alexa! Alexa! Wake up!"

"You can stop shaking me, I'm awake. I can't see how anyone can sleep with that racket."

"Do you remember? What do you remember? Are you okay." Methos asked.

"I feel, I feel like I could dance, I could sing. I feel wonderful, in fact."

"Thank you," Methos said, turning around in his chair to face Belladonna.

"You are welcome," Belladonna replied. "Don't ever say I never did anything for you." 

****

END


End file.

Highlander, Adventure