When Conspiracies Collide:
Center of Attention

This is pretty much the same spiel as in the first book so you can skip it if you want. Just know who's mine and who isn't.

Disclaimers

Jane is mine, as is the character of Father, AKA Alex Thompson, Micheal Bentley and a few others. Although, in both cases, I don’t own all of their various identities.

Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryans, Joe Dawson, Methos AKA Adam Pierson, Immortals, the Game, Watchers, Joe’s bar and the Dojo all belong to Rysher’s and their creators.

Jarod, Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots, Mr. Raines, Mr. Lyle, Angelo, Brigitte, Kyle, Mr. Parker, Mrs. Catherine Jameson Parker (ever notice she's about the only one with a first and last name on the show?), Sweepers, Cleaners and the Center belong to their respective owners, such as NBC. I expanded their universe to include the Assassins.

Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, AD Walter Skinner, Cancerman, the Lone Gunmen, the Well Manicured man, Mighty Morphin’ Bounty hunters, Giant Fluke men, Eugene Tooms, William Mulder, Mrs. Mulder, Samantha Mulder, Mrs. Scully, Melissa Scully, Bill Scully, the X-files and it’s associated conspiracy all belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and all those guys.

This is a work of fiction that I’m not making any money of off so don’t sue me. It’s not like I have any money in the first place. Just talk to all the people I owe money too, including the Bank. I’m just a poor, starving student, who’s soon to be a poor, starving working stiff trying to pay of student loans. Of course, that hinges on me actually finding a job when I graduate. If I graduate.

Continuity

Just forget about it and call it an AU; it doesn’t really fit in anywhere. But if you want to get picky, the series could start before the season finale of the 97-98 season for Pretender (Season 2) and X-files (Season 5) and so before XF: Fight the Future. It spins off from there. I do mention in passing various things that have occurred in previous X-Files, but nothing too major and it’s not like you have to have watched every episode to get what’s gong on. For Highlander, just ignore the season 5 finale. Maybe I should take out membership in Clan Denial. . . RICHIE LIVES!!!! Even if you don't see him in this one.

This is the third installment of When Conspiracies Collide, a multi-show crossover. The first two installments, Auspicious Beginnings and The Fountain of Youth really should be read in order for you to make any sense about what in heaven’s name is going on.

Personal notes

Hopefully this one is better than the last one. Also, don’t try reading this as a short break from studying. Just ask Michelle. We decided to take a break from studying for finals, so I edited and then she read. A few hours later, we finished the book and it was time for supper. So major kudos to her for giving up study time to read this and comment on plot and for picking up the numerous typos (honest they’re typos, my grammar’s not THAT lousy). As a result, any Oops you see are mine and mine alone. Kudos also go to Terri for all her support and for not killing me as I fed this to her one unedited chapter at a time. With any luck I might finish off the last book sometime soon, but no guarantees.

Rating

I think I could get away with calling this one a PG 13. A fair bit of mental anguish, but other than that, not to many bad words and only a little violence and none of that too graphic.

***

Prologue

Special Agent Fox Mulder gently placed the letter down on the table and immediately dialed up the bar in Seattle. After an interminable wait listening to the multiple rings, he got an answer as Russ finally picked up the phone.

No, Jane wasn’t around. She’d dropped in last week and hadn’t said when she’d be back in. No, he hadn’t seen Micheal around since she left with him last Friday. After hanging up, Mulder dialed another number.

"Turn off the tape." He waited for the barely audible click before he continued.

Chapter 1

I woke with a headache. A really big one that recalled a similar experience of waking up in an unknown area with anvils ringing in my head; definitely a habit I wanted to break. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by darkness. That wasn’t good. Nope, not good at all.

Father and I had made it into the Center, no problem. The problem came when we ran into a Sweeper team on the way out. The computer systems had already been raided and we were heading into an air-shaft when they swept around the corner heading towards us. Much as I extol our physical prowess, they called reinforcements and we were soon out numbered by about a 20-to-1.

Nobody’s that good.

I got in a few good hits and Father broke a few bones, but pretty soon I was overwhelmed by a pile of bodies. Ditto for Father. We were dragged mostly vertical and after they exploited a few lesser known pressure points (no doubt in retribution) we were greeted by the death’s head himself. One Mr. Raines. The pictures I’d seen didn’t do him justice, he really was one ugly bastard. He looked us over and his eyes gleamed with recognition. Things were quickly going from bad to worse.

"Hello Alex." Mr. Raines voice sounded like his throat had been crushed at one point. I wonder if Father had anything to do with it. "I didn’t think you’d darken our doorstep again."

"I just wanted a chance to get even." Father wasn’t doing too bad, having that nice little healing thing going for him. I on the other hand was not exactly feeling 110%.

"It wasn’t personal you know." Mr. Raines inhaled a few noisy breaths through a tube leading to an oxygen tank.

"You tried to kill me," Father said, smiling as he did so, "in rather messy manner. I think that can qualify as personal."

"You took something that didn’t belong to you." Mr. Raines didn’t look too happy; Father had a very cold smile.

"Well there is that I suppose."

"And you tried to double cross us." His voice took on a sinister note that out matched Father’s. I think the speech impediment helped.

"Of course." I’m sure Father would have made an expressive gesture with his hand, if it wasn’t currently being crushed by a goon. "I had to look out for myself you know."

"So why come back now?"

"I was home sick?"

"Well, I’m sure we can find a remedy for that." Mr. Raines looked at the two men holding Father and with a smug little grin jerked his head to the side. "Get rid of the body."

I took that as my cue to act. They’d pulled us up on our feet which was a pretty obvious mistake. Once I was up far enough, I swung my legs forward and kicked out in front of me. It was very satisfying to wipe the smile off Mr. Raines’ face with my foot and, as a side effect, pull the two guys holding my arms down with me. I managed to land on top of them and the fight started anew.

Father had managed to lose his guards and jumped back into the fray. I flipped off my throwing blades, kicking anything that moved and slowly made my way to the edge of what was beginning to look like a bar brawl. At least I didn’t have to worry about what I hit. Glancing over my shoulder, I was just in time to see the gun aimed at Father. Five shots later, I knew he had his way out. Now I had to find mine.

I slammed a foot into something with a wet crunch and found my back to the wall. I snarled at the first person to come near me, gulping in deep breaths with my eyes gleaming as the collection of sweepers flinched. I knew I was in trouble though and it wasn’t as though Lady Luck was paying any attention to my plight.

My fingers searched the wall behind me looking for something, anything that I could use. I flipped off my last knife and ripped at the grating behind me, turning to look into the dark shadows and straight into blank, soulless eyes. Those eyes stirred something deep within me that I wasn’t ready or willing to explore. Not when I had other things on my mind.

The group of Sweepers surged forward but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from a face full of angles that were as haunted as they were familiar. Something started to pound behind my eyes and I finally wrenched my eyes away. The hands pulling at me helped me to ignore the increased pounding and the tingle of a returning memory.

I lashed out feeling thing crunch and pop beneath my hands, but by then, I could barely see through the lights that were flashing in my head. Whether they were from the way my screwy memory worked or from the fists that made it through my defenses, I wasn’t sure.

Suddenly the lights exploded big time, my knees collapsed under me, something connected with my face and that was it. The lights were washed over with blackness and I woke up here.

***

He crouched outside the fence, his sharp face glaring at the building in front of him. Micheal Bennett, the Immortal that Samantha Mulder called Father, was ticked. Somehow they had been caught. The best planning in the world can’t anticipate everything, such as a small group of sweepers staying late and entering the hallway before he and Sam managed to vacate it.

Once the alarm was sounded, there wasn’t much the two of them could do. By the time he’d recovered from being dead (coming to after being shot who knew how many times wasn’t a quick process) they were already dragging his body away. There were only two Sweepers and they went down simply enough. He dumped their bodies where they were going to dump his and took off.

He made it back to the Center and stood outside, twiddling his thumbs while his mind spun in circles. If he left, he could get Duncan, Fox, or even, heaven forbid, Jarod to give him a hand. It went against the grain, but he was dead. He couldn’t risk the Center finding out about his kind. He shuddered at the thought of what the Center would do if they knew about Immortals.

Samantha would be safe for the moment. While the Center may have been willing to kill her when she was a wild card, out side of their control, now that she was in hand, she wasn’t as much of a threat. They could easily find out what she knew and then sell her off to the highest bidder. She was safe enough for the moment.

He scanned the grounds as his mind went along a train of thought that was becoming familiar. Duncan was good in a fight, but he didn’t have the devious mind that was necessary for what was now bouncing around Micheal’s head. Fox was too Mortal and Samantha would kill him if Fox got hurt. Jarod might have some useful information but wasn’t exactly keeping in touch. No, he couldn’t go to them for help.

Micheal wasn’t a man of many acquaintances, and many of those he did know would be more than happy to play Madam Guillotine. The others weren’t even in the country. Last he heard, Connor was back in Japan and. . .

A sudden thought made itself know and a faint grin reached up to his eyes. Oh yes, he might help. He wasn’t exactly next door, but anything was better than having to deal with Jarod. It was time to call an old friend. A very old friend.

***

I ached all over, but my head was the worst. Sitting up, I stretched a little, feeling my muscles bunch and pull from the abuse. I was pretty sore. My face was all nicely swollen with one eye practically useless and my teeth loose in their sockets.

Eventually I managed to stand up and walk around. The movement felt good in an achy kind of way, so I explored the confines of my cell. There wasn’t much to explore. A 20 x 20 foot room, nothing in it. The floor was hard and cold, and the walls felt pretty much the same.

My explorations concluded I sat down. There wasn’t exactly that much to do so my mind started to wander. That face. I knew that face, but nothing seemed to stick out. It wasn’t like I had the worlds best memory or something so I started at the beginning and went over what little of my life I could remember.

I woke up after a bomb went off with no memory of who or what I was, and with a panic response that had me off and running. I hid out for a while and eventually met Joe, and through Joe, Duncan. He and his student, Richie, set a few bells off in my head and after a Quickening, I knew about Immortals, the Game and all it entailed.

I replayed the experience in detail, from the static playing over my skin and the glass digging into my skin to the pounding in my head. Something slide through the empty halls of my mind and that awakened the knowledge of Immortals and their Game. Calming myself, I just breathed and let my mind wonder with the clash of swords ringing in my head.

Metal rang, one man thrust a sword in the other and said something. I made a noise and he turned to me. It was Father! He said something and then the Quickening hit him. I hadn’t remembered that before. I took another deep breath and after the pounding in my head eased up, continued my mental inventory.

After the Quickening, I helped Duncan out, gave him an alibi and such, but there was still an investigation. But before the investigators struck, I met Jarod. He came to Joe’s and confronted me about the bomb that blew up the professional building of a mall. I freaked out on him and ran. I seem to have a rather strong flight or fight instinct.

Any way, he convinced Joe, Duncan and Richie to help him, and woke me up at the building I was crashing in. For some bizarre reason I’m still not sure of, I trusted the creep and told him what I couldn’t remember. Something he said triggered another memory, he said he could help me. I let the rich toned of his voice bounce around my head, the resonance awakening feelings I didn’t want to deal with and nothing else. I slammed the mental door on Jarod and moved on.

Fox and Scully were the next ones to show up, investigating the beheading. I didn’t like them at first, though I tolerated Scully more than Fox. I was actually kinda mean to him. I even led him into thinking I was an Immortal, not that he had anything other then speculation about the mortally impaired in the first place. He showed up when I was going over some things with Joe, Duncan and Jarod, and a picture from when I was at the Center slipped onto the table. Fox completely freaked.

It turned out I was his long lost sister. Who would have thought that? It’s not like we bickered like siblings or anything. In spite of it’s auspicious beginning, that started the worst week I could remember. I’d barely found out who I was and what had happened to me, when someone shoots up the bar. We all got off whole if not hale, but that was just the beginning.

We spent the next day pooling our resources and put together a sequence of events of the past. When I was at the Center, when I left, that sort of thing. There were still a few holes but everyone had a good idea of what happened and when.

Later that night, someone started killing those of us who survived, including Miss Parker. She was the first, followed by Richie, and then Joe. They killed Joe, just because he helped me. He took me in, helped me find myself when I didn’t even know my name and was he dead because of it.

They were after me and wanted me alive, but everyone else was just so much dead meat to them. Duncan was attacked after Joe. He did a fairly good job of defending himself because the Assassin backed off. This gave me a chance to get ready for her.

I stopped her.

Not to everyone’s satisfaction, since Jarod ripped me up one side and down the other, but all that really mattered in my mind, was that she was out of commission. Jarod disappeared after that and I haven’t seen him since. I had to take another deep breath and clear the lump in my throat. He never said good-bye and I didn’t get a chance to tell him that it turned out Miss Parker was Immortal.

It took me a while to heal after my encounter with Mary, the Assassin. Soon as I was able, I went after the Center, with Father. We had planned this break-in as a fact finding expedition to fill in the gaps left and believe me there were gaps. About 8 years worth in total.

At one point in time, I’d been contracted out to a group of people who did. . . something to me. I don’t know what, but when Father saw the results, he broke me out of the Center. We both wanted to know who I was working for at the time. There was nothing about it on the system that Fox and his friends could find, so Father and I broke in to crack the storage files on an isolated system.

I didn’t come right out and tell Fox that we were going to do that. If I’d told him that of the bat, he’d either stop us or come along. I’m starting to think stopping us would not have been a bad idea. Fox must be going crazy right about now. I hope he hooks up with Father. Father had all the information on him.

That brought me to breaking into the Center and getting caught. And to the face I saw, just before I was knocked out. I thought about the face, letting it drift around as the other triggers had. Those eyes, they were so blue, but empty of thought. It was a kind face but he seemed infinitely sad, like he had something great and had it ripped from his hands.

He was so familiar, in a way like the way I knew Father.

I forced my hands to unclench and then slowed my breathing. Duncan taught me some meditation techniques and I put them to use. I let my mind wander, seeing the image of the face and more importantly, his eyes peering out at me from behind the grate.

Before any profound revelations made themselves known, I was interrupted by a door opening and a shaft of intense light that speared through my head. The pounding in my skull went from the slight pounding it had settled into, to something resembling thrash metal. I blinked more than a few times, then launched myself at the figure silhouetted in the doorway.

***

Jarod smiled at his computer screen. With another click of the enter key, his program went into effect. The hard drive whirled for a moment before it settled down and then the screen cleared. It was done. Running a hand through his dark brown hair, he gave a satisfied grin and leaned back.

It had taken him a while to find the information he was after, but now he had it, he could send it to the proper authorities and move on before the Center tracked him down. Mr. Lyle was now back at the Center and was assigned to find him. He had known Miss Parker well enough that he could predict her entrance down to the minute. Not to mention he knew all the right buttons to push and could manipulate her. But now she was dead. She was dead because she followed him and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He clamped down on the thought.

Since then, his life had been hell. Mr. Lyle had stepped up his efforts to catch him, employing more of the Centers resources than before. He seems to have become something of a priority. If he stayed in one place for too long, Lyle showed up with his sweepers. He rarely had time to properly set up an identity, relying on a few he’d established in the past years that hadn’t been discovered and, several times, had to disappear before he’d finished what he’d started. He did what he could and then helped from a distance. Much of the last few months had been spent simply hiding himself from the Center.

He’d had more close calls in the last four months then he’s had in the last two years and the strain was starting to tell. He was jumpy and less willing to trust. Traps had been set up for him that he’d barely managed to escape. A warning from Angelo was all that had kept him from getting caught one time. He’d been more careful since then but he still used the fighting tricks he’d learned from Sam more than he’d like to think about.

Jarod pushed down the wave of guilt that swamped him where he thought of her. What she’d done was wrong.

But she had a point; he had no right to judge her. He wanted to apologize to her, but he was so full of conflicting emotions and hurt and anger he ended up waiting too long. He went back after a month and she’d already left. He could have gone to Duncan to find out where she was, but. . . He told himself it wasn’t really safe to look for her, he’d just lead the Center to her doorstep. He was having trouble making himself believe that lie.

She scared him. Everything she was and represented. In many ways she was like him, but she was so much harder, colder, selfish. The Center had destroyed her then rebuilt her in to what they wanted. He could easily be what she’d become.

Sydney protected him as much as he was able, allowing them to use his intelligence and skills, without manipulating him as they had others. Sydney, Miss Parker and even Broots were some of the reasons Jarod hadn’t really gone after the Center. If the Center went down, so would they. There was more to it though.

His musing was interrupted by the little mailbox blinking on his screen. He clicked it open, expecting another warning from Angelo. He was half right.

It took a little while for the message to open and when it did, the figures on the screen started to move. The black and white story unfolded itself as two sweepers drug a body away and another was held up for inspection. The head rolled back and, through the bruising and veil of dark hair, Sam’s eyes stared blankly forward. Mr. Raines reached forward and looked in her face before waving her away.

When the scene was finished, he sat in stunned silence for a moment, then swore. He packed up his laptop, threw a few more things in a bag and was out the door. In less than half an hour he was on the highway out of town.

***

A phone rang out in the silence. An answering grown was heard from under a pile of blankets scrunched up on the bed and when the piercing sound rang out again, the mass moved. After another moment, a hand crawled out from under the covers and hit the clock by the table. When the ringing continued, the hand quested further out and knocked the phone on the floor. More grumbling later, Adam Pierson’s head emerged from the pile and looked at the phone on the floor. Eventually the headset was picked up.

"This had better be good." He growled into the phone, wishing it was only the alarm clock so he could ignore it.

"After all this time and that’s the best you can come up with?" The voice triggered a few buried memories that weren’t quite making it through the fog inhabiting the ancient Immortal’s head.

"Who is this?"

"Methos I’m appalled you don’t remember. After all the fun we had together." The voice abruptly switched to Latin. "It’s been a long time, old friend."

"Augustus? I didn’t think you were still alive." Adam abruptly sat up, ignoring the chill in his apartment. He unconsciously switched to Latin as well. "What have you been doing for the last thousand years?"

"Oh this and that. It’s Micheal now by the way. I need your help."

"What do you need?" He didn’t hesitate in answering. There weren’t many people in the world that could call Adam up, ask for help and receive it, no questions asked. This man was one of the very few.

"It’s a long story, can I meet you somewhere?"

"There’s a church over on 52^nd."

"Afraid I’m after your head?" There was no shock in the voice; it was more like amusement.

"No, but you don’t live very long if you don’t take a few simple precautions." Adam got a chuckle in reply.

"In an hour?" Micheal asked.

"I’ll be there. Till then."

"Till then."

Adam hung up the phone and was halfway dressed before he realized it was 3:30 in the morning.

Chapter 2

I felt something slam into my side, stealing my breath. The figure in the doorway was still there, unmoving. Someone must have snuck in while I was still blinded by the sudden light and their foot was what I felt. I grabbed the foot and yanked, trying to pull them off balance, but it didn’t work. I must be really off my game. Either that or the guy weighted a ton. I got a fist in my gut for my efforts and was suddenly glad I hadn’t eaten anything lately.

A hand wrapped around my throat and tightened, cutting off my air. I took the hint and stopped fighting. The hand dragged me forward into the beam of light on the floor, loosening his grip just enough for me to gasp away the black spots dancing in front of my eyes. I was then pulled up off the floor so my toes barely touched the floor. I am not a short person.

The figure in the door was a man in his sixties, though they had been hard years from the lines etched into his face. He lifted his hand and took a drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling up around his head. His small cold eyes bore into me and I wasn’t sure how, but I knew him. I seemed to be running into a lot of old friends these days. No insightful little glimpses from my subconscious though, just the certainty that I knew him and that I wanted him dead.

"See that she’s taken care of. She’s no good to us half dead." His voice was slightly hoarse, but all his words where clipped off short with anger.

"She’ll be fine by the time we hand her over. She didn’t exactly come quietly." The voice spoke from behind the cigarette man. The other guy had to be around the corner. "Are we agreed on the price then?"

"Yes, Mr. Lyle. The funds will be transferred over the next week."

"That’s not fast enough." The man who must be Mr. Lyle didn’t sound too impressed.

"Not even we can transfer that amount of cash without properly cover our tracks. The time will allow us to ensure the transfer will go unnoticed and unchecked. I’m sure you don’t want anyone to track the money to your door step?" The bright glow of the cigarette flared as the man took another drag and then flicked the butt in the direction of Mr. Lyle. "You will get your money, and we will get her back."

The man turned away and was escorted down the hall, the multiple echo of shoes on the tile floors rebounding into my cell. The hand around my throat tightened for a second and I was thrown across the cell with ease. The man who’d held me by the throat stepped into the open door and glanced back. He was big, looking like nothing so much as a thug. His scarred face burned into my mind as I swore I would see that smug look wiped off his familiar mug

By the time I got back to the door, it was slammed shut and he was gone. I slammed into it anyway, venting my frustration on the metal and ignoring the increased pounding behind my eyes. I kicked my heel into the door, grunting in satisfaction as the metal dented in with a resounding thwack. I stopped, wishing I could see my handy work. I caught my breath and finally banished the last of the ringing in my ears. Then I smiled. The door was only hollow metal, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to dent it. That wasn’t the smartest move.

I knew it wouldn’t do much good, but I was feeling ornery. I wished for the nice, heavy hiking boots I usually wore. They were absolutely lousy for covert activities, though, so for this foray, I had on a pair of light, soft soled boots. I started kicking at the door some more, raising a racket and satisfying my violent urges. After a while, I realized I was doing a pretty good job, and wondered if they could even open the door anymore.

***

Mr. Lyle sat in front of a monitor watching the slightly grainy figure on it, kicking at the door. She was doing an admirable job. His sweeper looked a little anxious as another kick landed, denting the door in even further.

"Don’t worry, she’ll tire herself out soon enough." He leaned forward as the woman stepped back from the door and with her hands explored the surface. Her fingers dug in and she started yanking on something. He focused in on her, the faint whir of the camera getting her attention in the silence. Her head snapped toward the sound and a grin formed on her face.

"Watching me are you?" She looked straight at the lens. "I bet you’re listening too, you arrogant little prick."

She went back to the door, and started to work at whatever had gotten her attention. She started kicking the door again, this time systematically kicking the edge with the resounding thwacks sounding loud in the room. Then she leaned in again and started prying at the edge of the door. A ray of light flashed into the room. Mr. Lyle turned around in disgust and barked at the man standing behind him.

"Drug her and get her out of there."

***

My hands were by now bleeding and my feet ached, but I was getting to them. I had a crack of light shining around the one side of the door. I wouldn’t be able to break the door down; I knew that. But getting as far as I did, meant they’d have to move me. And then I’d be ready. I loosened my grip on the piece of metal I’d pried up. My body pretty much covered the spot where I pulled it loose. Provided, of course, they hadn’t change the set up of the cameras since Father left.

I stopped for a breather, sucking on the cuts of one hand. They shouldn’t know I had the makeshift knife, but if they knew, I wouldn’t be given the opportunity to use it. If they didn’t, the surprise was on them. It was about eight inches long, the twisted edges sitting awkwardly in my hand. I was holding the dull end, with the sharper edge tucked against my wrist and digging slightly into my arm.

As the footsteps came down the hall, I tensed, ready for the confrontation. They startled a laugh out of me when the door remained stubbornly shut. It took them almost ten minutes just to enlarge the crack in it. I yelled taunts at them through the door, insulting everything from their parentage to the color of their underwear, not to mention the obvious lack of intelligence and puny muscles. Screaming "Mosquito Power" at them when they were all straining at the door really seemed to tick them off.

I heard the clang of metal as crowbars where jammed into sides of the door. After a few minutes they had another crack open along the side and a hose was pushed in. When the gas cloud started to float in I just shook my head and started kicking the door until the crack was closed and the hose with it. There was a commotion, someone started swearing a blue streak and the assault on the door continued.

There was a groan of metal and the door eventually caved in. A gun barrel was pointed in my general direction, and I heard a soft pop as the air-powered dart flew towards me. That was cheating, trying to drug me like that. Since it missed me, I rushed them for my revenge.

I tore into them, slicing with the piece of metal, gouging at eyes and anything else soft I could hook fingers into, and planting my foot in a few of the more painful areas. Did you realize that most of the sweepers in the Center are male? I used that little fact to my advantage and a number of those men were going to have a very empty social life for some time to come.

But it was not to last. I snarled as I felt something sting my back, numbness spreading rapidly out from the spot. I slammed my fist into someone's face and then tried to kick the guy behind me, but I fell as my knees gave way. I pulled a few guys down with me and forced an elbow into a gut. The last thing I could do was sink my short nails into the soft spot on an ankle.

***

Adam was almost ready to go, being as quiet as he could so as to not wake up his student, but it didn’t work. She was waiting for him at the door.

"Slinking off into the night?" Miss Parker was already dressed with an eyebrow arched in question.

"I thought you were still asleep?" he snapped.

"Not with the phone ringing this early in the morning. So where are we going?"

"We are not going anywhere. I am going to go see an old friend, and you are going to go back to bed." He reached into the closet and pulled out his duster, hoping she’d take the hint and leave him alone.

"Old friends. I like meeting your old friends." She ignored him and reached for her own coat, a special scabbard sewn into the lining months ago.

"You’ve never met any of them," he muttered.

"Then I guess I’d better start. I can’t stay in hiding all my life you know?" She threw his favorite taunt back at him, mimicking his tone exactly.

"Come along then. Lose your head for all I care"

It took them about ten minutes to get to the church Adam had suggested. As they entered, they both got the telltale buzz of another Immortal. He was sitting up near the front, waiting for them to come to him. Miss Parker froze when she saw who it was.

"Micheal." Adam’s face broke into a smile when he saw his old friend.

"Methos." Micheal’s face had a similar grin.

"It’s Adam right now. I’m a researcher with the Watchers." He sat down beside Micheal, the two of them keeping their voices low out of respect for the setting.

"That’s a story that deserves to be told." Micheal glanced past Adam and his eyes rested on Miss Parker for an instant. His strategy made an immediate detour.

"But not right now. You call me up after eight hundred years, your tale must be just as good." Adam cut straight to the point, never having been one to beat around the bush. Unless it was his bush of course.

"Yes. And she’s involved." Micheal pointed a finger at Miss Parker, where she still stood a few feet behind the two of them.

"You know each other?" Adam asked, turning around to look at Miss Parker.

"We’ve met." She didn’t sound too impressed with life.

"That's one way of putting it. Have you told him about the Center?" Micheal looked her over with an intensity that unnerved her.

"Enough. Why?" She was still reserved around the man she knew as Alex.

"I need to get someone out of there and since they killed me last night, I can’t exactly waltz in there myself."

"The Center got one of your little pets did they?" She let a snide note slide in. Micheal ignored her and started talking to Adam.

"The Center has a friend of mine. I want to get her out before they mess with her more than they already have." There was an icy tone in his voice that sent a shiver up her spine. There was something about the Assassins, they always had that effect on her.

"Will they be expecting someone to go after her?" Adam was already deep in thought, pulling together all the little bits Miss Parker had let fall about the Center.

"Most likely, but they’ll expect her brother, not someone coming at them from the inside." Micheal already had the beginnings of a new plan in mind, pretty sure that Adam had similar ideas.

"You mean me. I'm dead also." Miss Parker wasn’t sure what those two were cooking up, but the similar gleam in their eyes was a scary thing.

"They may think you're dead, but it’s easy enough to arrange things so it looked like you faked it," Micheal said.

"They’ll be suspicious. I haven't been too popular myself lately. That's why I'm dead." She didn’t like the way this was going. She didn’t like Micheal, or Alex, or whatever his name was. She didn’t like the Assassins and he, in particular, gave her the willies. She wasn’t too big on churches either.

"That won't matter once the two of you are in." Micheal smiled as he said that and she started to wonder how he knew she was with his ‘old friend.’

"Why the both of us?" Adam cut in.

"Come now Adam, I know I can trust you. Miss Parker can get you in, but I have no guarantee that she will get Ann out."

"This is about Ann!? I should have know Jarod was involved in all this." It always came back to Jarod and the Center, and she knew the Center had no idea where she was, let alone alive. How did this man know? If she was a lesser person she’d start screaming fate.

"This is about the Pretender?" Adam asked. This was becoming more complicated. From the tales Miss Parker told of Jarod, Adam thought this could get interesting. He hated interesting.

"Leave that sanctimonious twit out of it. I haven't seen him for months." Micheal snapped.

"Sanctimonious twit? I have to remember that one." Miss Parker allowed herself a quiet smile. That really fit Jarod at times.

"Can we get back to the business at hand. How long do we have?" Adam had a sickening feeling about this entire situation.

"Till the end of the week. After that, they pass her on to a third party. A party that's been trying to capture her for the last three years. If they get her, I don't know what will happen to her." Micheal leaned back in the pew, his face growing hard in conjunction with his thoughts. "I don’t know what they’re doing to her at the Center."

"You’re really worried about her." Adam looked at Micheal, finally noticing the dark shadows and grim lines that marked his face.

"You don’t know what they’ve already done. To her and others."

A few hours later, on the flight to DC, Adam looked over at his friend. Miss Parker was fast asleep in the chair across the aisle. There was a question that had been bouncing around his head for a while now, and this was his chance to ask.

"You had no idea I was training her, did you?" he asked. Micheal looked back at him, his tired eyes lighting up briefly with humor.

"I know when to take advantage of coincidence." Then he closed his eyes and settled in for the rest of the flight.