PART ONE
BY DANIELLE DUCREST

Disclaimer: The characters named Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, and Methos belong to Rysher Entertainment, Davis/Panzer Productions and Gaumont Television. The characters named Nicole Dawson, Charles Christopher and Mrs. Barley are my own. No copyright infringement was intended. This story was written for entertainment and no money was exchanged.

Author’s Note: I had seen four episodes of Highlander: The Series when I wrote this. I was able to write about the characters in this story after reading other fan fiction stories. If Joe says that he didn't have a sister that was adopted, I didn't know about that. I still don't, although at the present I've seen half of the TV series. Also, Joe has legs in this story, only because it would be too painful for someone with prosthetics to do the things Joe does in here.

Additional (2/15/02): This was my first fanfic. I wrote it in August of 1999.

*****

Methos kicked the side of his horse, Sultan, forcing him into a trot, and soon, a canter. Methos raced down the hill, feeling the wind on his face and the steady movement of his horse beneath him.

At the bottom of the hill, Methos slowed Sultan down to a walk. He looked behind him to see a man who, by appearance, looked a lot older than him, but was 4, 900+ years younger. The gray-haired man’s horse, Dixie, had followed Sultan, charging down the hill, while its rider screamed. Methos stopped his horse and waited, enjoying the scene. It wasn’t everyday he saw the watcher on a horse.

When Methos’ companion finally made it down, he was breathing heavily. "I am going to get you for this, Methos!" He said under his breath. "I don’t know why I let you convince me to come here!"

Methos smiled. "Why, I believe you wanted to come, Joe." He cocked his head. "Weren’t you the one who wanted to go on vacation?"

"Vacation my behind," Joe responded. "When I said ‘vacation’, wild death rides weren’t what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of long, sandy beaches and babes in bikinis."

"Oh, come on, Joe, you needed the exercise."

Joe cursed. "I’ll stay as long as you don’t get too drunk to walk and watch out for yourself."

Methos smiled an evil smile, determined to get so drunk the other man wouldn’t want to leave him by himself. "Where’s the fun in anything without beer?" Methos petted his horse. "Besides, they always said it’s safer to ride drunk than to drive. If you’re leading your beast right off a cliff, it’ll always stop."

Joe snorted. He just wanted to get off this thing he was sitting on. He tried to dismount, but found he couldn’t. He cursed. "How do you get off this thing?"

Methos chuckled and dismounted. "Simple, my dear Dawson." He said, imitating Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. "You simply swing your legs over and dismount."

Joe cursed and tried to get down again, but failed miserably. Methos finally moved forward and helped him get down. "Where’s Mac?" he asked once his feet were back on the ground, tying to change the subject so Methos would wipe that grin off his face.

"He said he’d join us later. He wanted to enjoy the scenery." Just as he said this, a buzz was felt in his scull. "In fact, that should be him now."

Both men turned to see Duncan MacLeod come down the hill toward them, clearly enjoying himself. Methos knew how he felt. It had been too long since he’d last raced down a hill, riding his steed as the wind whipped around him. It brought back pleasant memories, along with painful ones. Not wanting to relive them at this moment, he pushed them to the back of his mind and concentrated on the present.

As MacLeod reached them, he was smiling, and when he saw the look of disgust on Joe’s face, it widened. When he came to Methos and Joe, he dismounted. "Enjoy the ride, Joe?"

Joe gave him a dirty look. "I’m walking back to the stables. This thing almost gave me a heart attack," he said, motioning at the mare, Dixie, he had ridden for the last thirty minutes.

Mac smiled. "That’s fine with me, Joe, but don’t forget. The owners of this ranch expect you to take care of the horses you rent, so be sure to unsaddle him, feed him, brush him, and clean his shoes, and his stall needs some cleaning, too."

Joe cursed again. He had no idea how to do any of those things, and was counting on one of his immortal friends showing him. He knew he had no choice but to continue riding with Methos and MacLeod until they’d had enough for the day, which he doubted would ever come. He sighed and tried to mount again, failing miserably. Both immortals watched him with interest. "Aren’t one of you guys going to help me?" They moved forward and helped him up, although both Immortals were grinning from ear to ear.

*****

Later that evening, the three returned to their lodge, which was located in the woods near the stable. They all sat down, exhausted. Methos went to the kitchen and returned with a beer, then immediately sat down and gulped half of the bottle down.

"I told you I’d leave if you started drinking, Methos." Joe Dawson warned.

"And I told you I wouldn’t drive." Methos grinned, then gulped down the rest and got up to get another. When he returned, Duncan was trying to teach a few things about horses to Joe, the same thing he’d tried to do the entire day.

"The first thing you need to do while riding a horse, Joe, is to make sure you’re in charge. Tomorrow, if you don’t want Dixie to go faster than a walk, all you have to do is pull the reigns and she’ll stop."

Joe sighed. He certainly didn’t do that today. He didn’t think he’d ever get the hang of it. Unlike Mac and Methos, he didn’t have to ride a horse most of his life just to get around. "Thank Ford for inventing the horseless carriage," Joe muttered.

Unfortunately, Methos heard him. "Oh, come now, Joe. Where would we be today without horses? All the greats rode horses. There’s Caesar, King Arthur…" Methos counted them off with his fingers until he ran out of them. "…General Robert E. Lee, General Ulysses S. Grant, and last, but never least, yours truly, me." As he said this last part, Methos pointed to his chest.

Joe snorted. "I wouldn’t count you as one of the greats if my life depended on it."

Duncan, who’d been listening, just shook his head. "I don’t think Methos would be able to quit drinking if his life depended on it."

Methos made faces at both of them and continued drinking.

*****

The next day, Joe went to the ranch rather than ride anymore, and Duncan decided to ride a few nature trails. That left Methos by himself, which suited him just fine. In a show ring near the stables, Methos wanted to practice a few things. He’d learned a few tricks in the last 5,000 years, especially after attending various rodeos in Texas. The last time he attended one was in 1926. Rodeos were pretty famous around that time, and many groups were forming. Even Methos was in a few.

So, that day, Methos practiced. He did many tricks he’d learned, including jumping on his running horse, or standing on him, he even hung on the side. But those were only a few.

Right when he’d sat down for a break, he felt it. The buzz. Do they have to wait until you’re completely worn out to show up? Methos thought, taking a few gulps of water from a bottle he had with him, then got up. He looked around for his Ivanhoe, but then remembered he’d left it in the cabin. "Great. Just Great," he muttered.

The other immortal was getting closer now. In the direction Methos was looking, he saw a woman round a bend in the road behind some trees. She walked towards him when she saw him, her own sword at ready. Soon, she was standing in the ring with him.

Close up, Methos could see her better. She wore jeans, a white shirt, and boots, and had long brown hair she wore loose under her hat. "I am Josephine Candy," she said, raising her sword. "If you’re looking for a fight, you’ve come to the right place."

"My name’s Adam Peirson, and I hate to disappoint you, but I haven’t come to fight. I’m supposed to be on vacation, actually." Methos said, hoping he wouldn’t have to fight at all. Looking around, he’d found nothing he could use as a weapon. Josephine realized this and lowered her sword, but didn’t sheath it for precaution.

"I promise you I won’t take your head. You have my word on that." Methos added, not wanting to see the sword at all.

Josephine considered. "Very well," she said, sheathing it. "You have my word, too."

Methos let out his breath, relieved. He looked at the other immortal again. "Didn’t I see you working here earlier?" he asked.

"When was that?" she asked.

"Yesterday. I’d just arrived here for my stay, and I think I saw you helping some kids feed some chickens or something."

Josephine nodded. "Yes, I was doing that yesterday. I do work here." She started walking towards the road she had come. "I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then," she said.

Methos nodded. "I guess so."

When he could no longer feel Josephine’s buzz, Methos relaxed. He then turned his attention back to his horse, Sultan. After he brought him to the stables, Methos went to the cabin and sat down.

*****

That same morning, Joe had breakfast in the mess hall. About twenty people were there on vacation as far as Joe could see. After breakfast, he began to explore the lodge and the area around it. When he sat down for a break, he spotted Mrs. Barley, the wife of the man who owned the ranch.

"Hello, Mrs. Barley," he said as she approached.

"Hello!" she said, sitting down next to Joe. "Enjoying your stay?"

"Yes, ma’am, I am," he said. "To tell you the truth, though, I’m still getting the hang of horse-back riding."

Mrs. Barley laughed. "Well, you wouldn’t be the first to tell me that. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it."

Joe nodded, but knew he’d never get back on a horse again.

As Mrs. Barley continued to make small talk, Joe looked around. Everything was peaceful here. Besides the horses, Joe thought he could learn to like it here. He looked around at the many people working and helping out. At this ranch, guests were supposed to help with the chores, from cooking breakfast to making fires.

Joe began to wonder off a little bit. But then, suddenly, he came back to reality. Because, coming out of the forest, was a woman he knew very well.

His sudden jerk startled Mrs. Barley, who looked to see what he was staring at. She laughed. "That’s Josephine, one of our hired hands. Would you like me to introduce you?"

"No, ma’am. We’ve already met." Joe got up and walked towards her.

By this time, Josephine had seen him, and was staring just as dumbfoundedly at him. She looked around franticly for a place to hide, but she found none. Instead, she stood where she was and waited for Joe to come.

Joe had his mouth open. "Nicole?" he asked, not believing what he saw.

"Hi, Joe." She said awkwardly. "It’s me."

Trot- faster than a walk. Usually a bumpy ride.

Canter- faster than a trot and a much smoother ride.

*****

PART TWO

BY DANIELLE DUCREST

"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do," Josephine, or Nicole, said. "If you’ll just come with me back up the trail to the woods…"

"You’re immortal?" Joe asked. "Why didn’t you tell me? Where have you been all these years?"

Josephine/Nicole stared at Joe. "You know about immortals?" she asked.

"Yes. I do," Joe said. "You could have at least told me you were one. It would have saved me a lot of trouble. Especially after you were hit by a car and everyone in our family thought you were dead." Joe said, raising his voice, clearly mad.

The woman before him looked around them nervously. "Keep your voice down. Do you want to attract a crowd?"

Joe looked around. In his anger, he’d forgotten one of his responsibilities as a Watcher: never talk about immortality in public. He took a deep breath to cool down. "I think we do need some privacy," he said, heading up the trail into the woods.  

Nicole followed him. When they were deep in the forest, Joe stopped, so she did, too.

"Please, Joe. Let me explain. I didn’t even know I was immortal. But when that car hit me, I found out. Do you think I didn’t want to come back? Do you think I wanted my family to mourn?" Nicole looked away from Joe.

Joe sighed. "I’m sorry, Nicole. This is all just so new to me. I may know about immortals, but I certainly didn’t expect my own dead, or supposed dead, sister to be one." Joe looked up at Nicole. "It’s so good to see you again, Nicole."

Nicole smiled. "It feels so good to see you again, too."

Joe and Nicole stood in silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to do next. After thirty years, how do you great a long-lost family member? Well, Nicole solved that by pulling Joe into a hug.

They didn’t let go for a long time. When they finally did, they did reluctantly. "Come on," Joe said, starting up the trail to his cabin. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

They talked about old times as they headed up the gravel road. "Remember the time dad dressed up as Santa?" Nicole asked. "I had told you Santa always wore his special red boxers for good luck. So when dad came down the chimney, the first thing you did was pull down his pants."

Joe laughed. "It’s a good thing dad was wearing his red boxers at the time, or I would have been heartbroken."

"Remember that time our pet goldfish died?" This time it was Joe who asked this. "You missed him so much, you tried to use the plunger to get him to come back from the sewers. I’ll never forget the look on mom’s face when she found the bathroom flooded."

"Yeah. Neither will I." Nicole said, and they both burst into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. The laughter was interrupted, unfortunately, when Nicole felt a buzz as they approached the cabin. She groaned. She had hoped not to run into the immortal Adam Peirson twice in one hour. If it was Adam Peirson, that is.

Joe heard her groan and looked at the porch of the cabin. There was Methos, just getting up from the porch swing. "Adam," he said, relieved.

This time, Methos had his sword. When he saw Nicole, he relaxed a bit, but not much. "Oh, it’s you," he said, but kept his hand on the Ivanhoe’s hilt just in case. "You know this woman, Joe?"

"Very well," Joe said. "You’ve met?"

Methos nodded. "We did not long ago. Mind if I ask how you two know each other?" Methos asked when they reached the porch.

"Oh, she just happened to be my adopted sister while I was growing up. Then one day a car hit her and my family and I never heard from her again. I didn’t even know she was immortal, until now."

Methos stared wide-eyed at Joe, then at Josephine. "Joe and Josephine. Who would have thought?"

Nicole shook her head. "That isn’t my real name. It’s really Nicole Dawson. But I changed it when I died."

"It’s all right with me." Methos shrugged, turning to go back inside. "I hope you like beer, cause that’s all we have. Well, that and scotch."

When they were almost inside the cabin Methos, Joe, and MacLeod had rented, Methos and Nicole felt another immortal presence. "Hopefully, that’s Mac." Methos said, getting his sword ready just in case. Nicole did, too.

She looked at Methos, confused. "Who’s he?" she asked Joe.

Methos answered. "Well, if we’re in luck, you’ll meet him in a minute."

All three waited. MacLeod rounded the corner of the house, and Methos and Joe relaxed. His gaze wondered from Methos, to Joe, then to Nicole. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Relax, Mac." Methos reassured his friend. "She happens to be a friend of Joe’s. Or should I say sibling?"

MacLeod looked at Joe. "What does he mean by that?"

"She’s my sister, Mac." Joe said.

MacLeod’s eyes grew wide. "Your sister?" he repeated.

Joe nodded. "Mac, this is Nicole Dawson. Nicole, Duncan MacLeod."

Nicole looked at Joe. "Just how many immortals do you know, Joe?"

Joe smiled. "Just a few." After glancing at MacLeod as if to reassure him, Joe motioned towards the door and said, "After you."

When everyone was inside, Methos immediately fell into the armchair, which was becoming his favorite piece of furniture. Everyone followed his example, Joe and Nicole sitting one couch and MacLeod on another.

"So, tell us what happened." MacLeod said.

Both immortal and mortal Dawsons looked at each other. "Well," Joe began. "It all started in the 70s, when I became old enough to go to Vietnam. I had just pulled up to my parents’ house to tell them…" 

*****

On Bernard St. just in front of the Dawson residence, a Ford Mustang came down the street. It pulled up into the Dawsons’ Driveway, and its driver, Joe Dawson, got out. Anyone who saw him could very well see the frown that had settled on his face, and they’d probably be right in guessing what the problem was.

Young Joe Dawson had turned eighteen two years ago. He figured it would happen sooner or later, but he’d tried his best to avoid it. But, after two long years, the day had finally arrived.

He walked up to the front door and knocked. He was greeted by a woman who was less than a year younger than Joe was. "Hi, Joe." Her smile easily vanished when she saw the look on his face. "Joe, what’s wrong?"

Joe didn’t say. Instead he came in and asked, "Where’s Mom and Dad?" he was rewarded by the sound of his mother in the kitchen.

"Nicole, did you answer the door?" Mrs. Dawson called, coming into the hall.

"Hi, Mom." Joe said, trying to smile but failed miserably.

"Hi, Joe. I didn’t know you were stopping by." Mrs. Dawson said.

"Joe, is that you?" a voice said from the parlor. The next minute, a man in his late sixties appeared.

"Yeah, dad, it’s me." Joe said, still standing in the doorway.

His father looked at him. "What’s the matter, son?"

Joe hesitated. "I’ve been drafted." He said finally. Silence filled the room.

A few weeks before, Joe Dawson had looked forward to being relieved from duty and coming home. That had changed when he'd received the letter that made him dread returning to Chicago.

As he pulled up into the Dawson driveway for the first time in several months, a new pang of sadness washed over him. He had shared many happy times with his sister in this house while they grew up. He couldn’t anymore.

His sister was dead.

When Joe walked up to the front door, he remembered his sister’s smiling face when she answered the door the day he’d come with those depressing news of being drafted only a year ago. This time, though, his aunt answered it.

"Hi, Joseph," she said, tears still falling down her checks. "Your parents are in the parlor."

As he entered the parlor, his own tears came. When he saw his mother and father, surrounded by other relatives and friends, he could hardly stand. Sitting down in a chair, he cried. He didn’t stop crying for a long time.

When he was almost done, he heard his mother explain to everyone what had happened.

"Nicole was coming home from her work as a waitress at a Mr. Bart’s. She was crossing a street, and then a cab just comes out of nowhere." His mother’s voice was shaking. The next minute she was in tears. No one around her tried to stop her. All they could do was hold her, and some did.

Mr. Bart’s had just closed down for the afternoon. It was a lunch restaurant, and it was way past lunch. Nicole Dawson, a waitress and dishwasher there, was the last one to leave. The rest of the staff had left thirty minutes ago. As she locked the door and walked down the street to her parent’s house in the suburbs, she thought about her brother, Joe. His last letter had said he wouldn’t be able to come home for Easter Holidays, which sort of disappointed Nicole. She’d looked forward to seeing him again after so long. She’d just have to wait and see what happens at Thanksgiving.

As the light turned red on the street in front of her, she made her way across on the crosswalk. On the other side, she caught the eye of a man who stood next to a nearby newspaper stand. He seemed to be watching her, but Nicole wasn’t sure. She shook the feeling off and continued down the sidewalk.

When she reached the next intersection, she saw him again out of the corner of her eye. But when she turned to look, he was gone.

While she crossed the street, she kept looking for him. Then, she saw him. She gazed at him, determined not to let him out of her sight once more.

When she crossed the last lane and was almost on the sidewalk, Nicole heard a car horn. She turned just in time to see a yellow cab running into her, forcing Nicole to the ground. The last thing she saw were the cab’s tires coming towards her body. Then there was darkness…

In an apartment building above the street where the accident occurred, Nicole Dawson gasped. When she opened her eyes and found herself on a couch in a two-room apartment, she wondered how she got up here. Then she remembered the accident. Her hands traveled all along her body. Nothing was out of order, and there wasn’t a trace of the blood Nicole knew should be there.

She felt a very nerve-ending feeling in her head, and then the door to the other room opened. A man stepped through it, and Nicole knew he was the source of the buzz. It was the man on the street, the one who had followed her.

"I am Charles Christopher." He said, his booming voice filling the room. "And we are immortal."

"Idiotic woman!" Charles Christopher’s voice echoed off the sides of the cabin. He slapped Nicole hard on the face who went spiraling down to the floor. She tried to move a few paces to the door, but Charles pulled her up by her shirt, stopping her attempted escape.

"You will come to bed with me." Charles ordered, shaking her.

Nicole stared up at him in hatred. Last year, when Charles had told her of immortality, he had been kind to her. A few months later, when they were alone, he turned on her, seduced her. Nicole knew nothing about how to defend herself, but she was still determined not to cower in front of him. "Never." Nicole spat in his face.

This caused Charles to become angrier. He punched her in the stomach and let go. She fell down to the floor, clutching her stomach.

"You will!" Charles boomed. He moved a few paces back, grabbing the sword that was lying against the wall behind him. But Nicole stabbed first. She had a knife she kept hidden in her sock, which she grabbed while Charles was getting his sword.

Charles screamed in pain, dropping his sword. She grabbed it and sunk it deep into his chest. Charles stammered back, and then fell down to his hands and knees, dying.

Nicole stood up, still clutching the sword, and brought it down above his neck.

"Do it," he said, clutching his chest in pain.

Nicole stood there, feeling the rage flowing through her body. She picked the sword up, but couldn’t bring it down. She'd never killed anyone before, and as much as she hated this man, she just couldn't start now.

"No." she said, dropping it. She ran to the door and out the cabin.

"Nicole!" Charles cried after her. "I will get you for this! I will find you and kill you for this!" After a few more huge gasps, he died.

After Nicole had told them her side of the story, the room was silent. Joe had his mouth open. "My god," he said. He’d heard of Charles Christopher. He’d had twelve different watchers in the last century. He always seemed to find them, and never let any of them go. Some of them had been good friends of Joe. There wasn’t a watcher on him now, thankfully. But just the thought of him ever coming near his kid sister…

Joe was angry. He stood up and almost shouted, "If that man ever comes near you again, I swear I’ll kill him myself." He cursed. "If he ever comes near you again…"

"Joe, sit down, please." Nicole said, tugging on his arm. "Don’t bother. He’s probably dead by now, anyway."

"What if he isn’t?" Duncan asked.

"I don’t know." Nicole sighed. "As far as I know, he doesn’t know where I am. I just hope it stays that way."

"My kind of strategy." Methos commented. "Always stay clear away from immortals you can't trust." He looked at Joe. "But you really should listen to her, Joe. You’re mortal. He’s immortal. Do you know how easy it’ll be for him to kill you?"

They were right. He shouldn’t just charge headfirst at someone who can’t be killed by a bullet. He was more likely to die that way if he did. Joe looked out the window. It was growing late, and any minute from now Nicole would have to leave for the night.

"Nicole?" Joe asked her. "You want to stay over for the night? We haven’t seen each other in so long, as you well know, so I was thinking that maybe we could talk for awhile, just to catch up on old times…"

Nicole looked at Joe and smiled, glad that he still didn’t want to go after Charles. "Sure, Joe. It’s all right with me."

*****

That same afternoon, a black Chevrolet came up the road outside the ranch. When it approached the arch, its driver was pleased to see that it said "The Barely Horse Ranch" across the top. When the car pulled up in front of the farmhouse, the driver went up to the front door and knocked.

Mrs. Barley answered the door. "Hello!" she said, smiling. "Come for a stay?"

"Yes, ma’am, I have," a voice used to yelling said.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you here before." Mrs. Barley said. "May I ask what your name is?"

The man smiled. "Anderson. Jacob Anderson," he said.

After arrangements for his stay were made and he started walking back to his car, he stopped and turned back to her. "Does a woman named Josephine Candy work here?" he asked.

"Why, yes, she does." Mrs. Barley said. "Do you know her?"

The man who called himself Jacob Anderson smiled once more. "Yes, ma’am. More than you might think."

Part Three

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