HLFIC Gathering Wednesday (Part 1 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 12:30:49 From: Jimmy Murphy Subject: WAR: What's up with the lights? "What's Up with the lights?" by Jimmy Murphy March 19/20, 12midnight Anne's kitchen Though Marie had insisted that everything was on track and that no detail had been overlooked, Anne was still unable to sleep. It was, after all, the first time that Anne had hosted a party at her house, and it seemed that with every beep of her e-mail program, the guest list was growing. "Will there be enough food?" Anne asked, since that was her main worry. Marie rubbed Anne's tense shoulder. "Don't get so uptight, Anne. Jessica was very gracious. She said that she would make some extra-special things on the off-chance that there are more guests than expected. She even offered to make my favorite type of potato salad...low-fat mayo." Anne secretly gagged; low-fat mayo was about as appetizing as tinfoil, and a lot easier to swallow. "She certainly was hard on that caterer, wasn't she?" Donna remarked. Anne explained to Donna that Marie was not purposely berating Jessica; Marie just knows the proper way to talk people into doing what they need to do. "During her entire tenure at Community, no one could recall a single instance where she actually yelled at anyone...she just tells people what needs to be done." "Good arm-twister, huh?" Donna asked. Anne just laughed as Marie re-entered the room. "How about the two of us work off some of that tension and go for a jog around the block?" Marie suggested, always eager to get some outdoor jogging in. "It's pitch dark!" Donna exclaimed. Disappointed, Marie looked out the window. "What can I say?" Marie asked, "...in Alhambra I go jogging every time I want to get my mind off things." Exercise seemed to be the common thread that had made Marie and Anne come together in the first place. Five years ago when Anne moved to Seacouver, the two ladies struck up a friendship while working out in the hospital's physical therapy facilities. There's no shared pain quite like that of two people "feeling the burn" on a regular basis. "The neighborhood *is* pretty safe, Anne thought aloud, reconsidering Marie's suggestion. "Let's do it!" Donna said, rising from the table. As the three women headed up the hill toward highway 42, A shadowy figure emerged from Anne's potting shed. Kenny, wearing a somewhat smelly pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt, watched them head away. "Now we'll see who's laughing last..." he said in his best imitation of menace. As he moved toward the door, his jeans leg caught the shelf unit nearest the door, sending an entire bag of potting soil crashing down on his head. He entered the French doors once again, and headed straight into the basement. Since his "Home Alone" act did not work, he decided to reach back a bit further. When Kenny found the house's main fuse box, he had visions of Audrey Hepburn. When the ladies returned, laughing and winded from an exhilarating run, Kenny withdrew a pair of wire cutters from a nearby box and smugly said "Now just 'Wait Until Dark', Anne!" At the same moment, Marie was standing at the sink. She wanted a glass of water, but the sight of Donna's french-fry nibblings made her instinctively go into mother-mode. She swept the fries into the sink and reached for the switch to the garbage disposal. She flipped the switch, only to have the lights flicker and pulse for several seconds. A muffled "iiiiiiihhhhhh!" was heard from downstairs, but not as loudly as the garbage disposal's grinding noise. When Marie turned off the disposal, the flickering stopped. Marie cast an eye toward the ceiling fixture, then shrugged and poured a glass of water. "What's wrong with the lights?" Donna asked, looking at the same kitchen light. Anne stuck her head in the door. "Probably just some little rodent that got onto the power lines. Happens all the time out here." The three women shrugged and proceeded up the stairs. "Do you smell burning hair?" Anne asked Marie as she shut the bedroom door behind her. Next: an unexpected visitor..... =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:35:08 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Once upon a midnight dreary . . . By Joan Mann Time: Tuesday night (midnight), March 19/20, 1996 Where: Four Seasons Hotel Title:Bedknobs and really old men ---------------------------- "Off with his head!" the Red Queen shouted, while Tweedledee and Tweedledum capered about. The White Rabbit looked at his watch and scampered down the rabbit hole. Daisy Duck....... Joan woke with a start. "What a weird dream," she thought, "Daisy Duck doesn't belong in this scenario. And I don't remember the Red Queen having such a substantial nose. Too much too drink, again. Adam, I could kill you." As she was drifting off again, a hand closed over her mouth. Joan struggled and kicked, but to no avail. She had read stories about women getting attacked in hotel rooms, and for the first time in her life felt real fear. Just then, a voice floated out of the darkness, "Joan," Adam whispered, "we need to get out of here for a while to do something and I need your help. I just received some distressing e-mail. Get dressed." "Adam! You scared me half to death! Go away," Joan said, "I need some sleep and so should you! And another thing, why did you buy that quart of Cuervo gold before we got in the cab? Tequila always kills me. And how did you get in here anyway? There are people guarding the door and there are PSGs ensconced on either side of your room?" Adam smiled in the darkness, "I told you before, how do you think I got to this ripe old age without being devious? I have a few tricks left up this old sleeve. By the way, have you ever used a gun?" "Guns?" she repeated stupidly, "Guns???? You want me to shoot a GUN??? Are you out of your freaking mind? I know I've lost mine in the past couple of days, but I really think you've gone round the bend on this one. I know I said I would do anything for you, but don't you think this is pushing the envelope a bit?" "It's merely for protection, luv,"Adam said, "you probably won't have to use it." "Probably??, "Joan replied, "how about definitely. You are completely bonkers." Adam just laughed, "Now, isn't it opportune that they put you in a window room. Right then. How are you at tying knots?" They didn't notice the furry creature watching them. "You do realize, of course, that we're 20 floors up?" Joan said as she knotted sheets together and took another shot of Cuervo with Methos. "Now how hard could it be to get down there?"Adam said. "See that canopy down on the 10th floor? Well, we can climb down to there and then use the fire escape the rest of the way. And if we miss, well, did I ever tell you I was trampoline champ in one of my early incarnations?" Joan just looked at him skeptically. "Noooo problem at all, trust me." Adam said. Subject: WAR: The Worm Begins to Turn, Part One The Worm Begins to Turn, Part One Tuesday night, midnight Street outside the Four Seasons Hotel by Joanne Curme Joanne and Rob walked up to the car. In the darkness, they could just make out Tay and Carol Ann in the front seat. They tapped on the window. "Hey, you awake?" Rob whispered. "Mmmhm, yeah," Tay replied. "Is it midnight already?" He nudged Carol Ann but she was fast asleep. "Did you guys find anything?" Tay unlocked the car door and the two got in the back seat. "You're a cheap date, Tay," Rob grinned. "Hey, what can I say? I like her. At least we got to go to a movie first." Accidentally killing Carol Ann's ex-husband and ex-boyfriend in The Plain Brown Wrapper by mistake that afternoon hadn't put a damper on their budding relationship; the two had spent the day together and discovered they had a lot in common. The fact that Carol Ann shared a name with a well-known Methos flag waver didn't faze Tay at all. *This* Carol Ann had short hair. "You wouldn't believe what we found out," Joanne said. Rob unwrapped a liver sandwich and offered half to Tay, who immediately took a large bite. "Remember that wallet that Kenny stole from the Watcher in the alley by the dojo this afternoon? It had a bankbook and some addresses in it. We just finished cross-referencing the property records against the stuff from the wallet, and it looks like Horton's been laundering hundreds of millions of dollars through legitimate and illegitimate businesses in the last three seasons -- er, years." "Isn't that normal for an organization like the Watchers?" Tay mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich. "Yeah, but these transactions are totally separate from normal Watcher accounts. None of the same signatures or banks. Almost like he's bankrolling a whole different organization." "The Hunters," he whispered. "That's what we figure," Rob said. "It looks like the Hunters move into a town, buy up legitimate businesses under false names, and begin moving money through their bank accounts by pretending to remodel. A few million dollars later they abandon the companies and skip town." "Leaving behind headless Immortals in each city," Joanne finished. "That's the reason they come to town; the buyouts are just a cover." "How did you and Rob get involved in all this?" Tay asked. Joanne and Rob looked at each other. Rob answered first. "My dojo was one of the businesses Horton tried to buy out. I wasn't interested, even though he kept offering good money. I finally got rid of him, but a couple of friends took him up on his offer and in a few months their stores were bankrupt. It was just too fishy; they'd been doing really well before. I knew Joanne had a few friends in the banking business so I asked her to do a little digging for me." "A friend of mine runs credit checks for loan applications and somebody else processes property loans, so they did some checking. What they found was really scary. Somebody was running a huge money laundering scheme, starting over in a new city every six months or so. Horton's name shows up on the paperwork. If they hadn't been looking for it, nobody would have ever noticed. He's pretty slick." "What a story," Tay sighed. Joanne waved away the liver-breath. "Did you tell anybody?" "No. How could we? What my friends did for me was totally illegal. The case never would have gotten past a hearing, and we'd have all ended up in jail." "We just kept watching the transactions," Rob said. "Last month Horton started buying property up here in Seacouver. He goes through so many front organizations the Watchers never would have figured it out. But he's planning the same thing up here, I just know it." "But isn't that stupid, trying something in the same city with Joe and the rest of the Watchers?" "Not really," Joanne answered. "He usually doesn't show up himself; all the dirty work is handled by his henchmen. Horton just collects the money and the heads. He controls everything from his office. He wouldn't have shown up here, either, except for --" Everyone's attention was drawn to the side of the Four Seasons hotel. Two figures -- no, three, counting the tiny tailless one trying to be inconspicuous -- were climbing down a rope to a fire escape on the 10th floor. Suddenly the second one slipped, and both people went tumbling to the ground below. In a few moments the figures stood up, brushed themselves off and started to walk toward the street; apparently they had landed on something soft enough to break their fall. They didn't notice the tiny tailless furry thing plop to the ground behind them and start to follow, but the people watching from the car saw it and frowned. "That was Methos," Rob said. "Let's go." He and Joanne got out of the car. "Wait up!" Tay whispered. "No, you've got Carol Ann to worry about. Don't get her involved in any of this; she doesn't even watch the show." "What show? Guys? Hey, guys? What're you talking about? WHAT SHOW? GUYS!!!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * -- Joanne (jcurme@pyramid.com) K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL Gathering *--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--* | The universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting | * for our wits to grow sharper. * | -- Eden Phillpotts | *--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--* =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 24 Mar 1996 10:10:50 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: The Worm Begins to Turn, Parte Deux The Worm Begins to Turn, Parte Deux Early Wednesday Morning, 1 am By the Four Seasons Hotel by Joanne Curme Methos and Joan walked quickly toward the 24-hour coffee shop he kept claiming was just around the corner. "How do you know there's one up here?" Joan asked breathlessly, trying to keep up. "You've been plastered out of your gourd ever since Athens." "Every convention center has a 24-hour coffee shop nearby. You don't think I've survived 5000 years by eating hotel food?" "No, I guess not," Joan muttered. "But I wish I hadn't had that last chug of tequila. My head hurts." "You'll get over it." "I know, but that's not the point." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The coffee shop was just ahead. Methos glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw a couple of figures tailing him, and a tinier, furrier figure farther behind. he chuckled to himself. They reached the diner and went in. "Table for two," said the waitress, grabbing two filthy menus. "Smoking or non." She popped her gum. "We'd like a table in the bar, please, for four." She picked up a cocktail list and turned and walked into the smoky lounge. "Four?" whispered Joan. "Are we meeting someone?" "Yes. Just act normal. People might be watching us. Order some tequila." "Not on your life, buddy. I've drunk more this week than I have all year." The waitress seated them and went up to the bar, saying something to the bartender. They both turned and looked at the couple at the table, then looked quickly away. A cocktail waitress came over and Methos ordered four rounds of tequila. "You are out of your mind," Joan hissed. "You can't --" Just then Rob and Joanne walked in and took chairs opposite Methos and Joan. "Hi. Sorry about the late call." "No problem," Methos replied. He introduced Joan to the two new arrivals and they shook hands. "Glad to see you got to the hotel all right, Joanne." "The cats were sure a surprise, but I kind of missed them. They'll be fine as long as they stay in the room." "Did you know there's a wombat tailing you?" Rob asked. "There usually is. Is that a problem?" "It might be," said Joanne. "We've heard one of the wombats has defected and is working for the K'immies." "That can't be. Wombats defend us against unjust attacks, they don't cause them." "This one does. She's been brought over." "How could that be?" Methos was truly shocked. "They must have kidnapped and brainwashed her. What was it, Coke? Pepsi? Red Baron pizza?" "Worse." Joanne's face grew somber and she avoided looking at Methos. "Peeps. Lavender peeps." Methos' face grew pale. "Those bastards." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Their orders finally arrived, late and cold. Rob thought. Joan had finished off three of the tequilas and was now humming and nodding her head to the music on the jukebox. "So tell me about the email message tonight," Methos said. "That was a little something we set up this afternoon on the bank account we discovered from the watcher's wallet. Whenever money's transferred out of the account, a notification message is automatically sent. That's what you got a copy of." Joanne speared a radish and swirled it in the blue cheese dressing, then regarded it carefully and put it back down. "Where did the money go?" Rob handed Methos one of the property records they had gotten from the records office. "The restaurant shown here was sold a few weeks ago. On that day the same amount of money was transferred out of the bank account into the business account, and large withdrawals and deposits have been made ever since. The numbers match up perfectly." "You think this business is one they're laundering money through?" Methos asked as he fished around his bowl of soup for a chunk of something he could identify. "Yes," Rob replied, lifting something off his pasta and tucking it under the side of his plate. "Today was a deadline for one of the remodeling contracts and they hadn't been paid yet. It was now or never, and it turned out to be now." "But who does business at midnight?" Methos asked, turning over a slice of bread before shuddering and turning it back. "Well, it's morning in Paris, and this *is* a joint Canadian-French venture," Joanne offered, noticing that the pepper flakes on her vegetables had tiny legs and wings. She put down her fork. "You could be wrong about this, you know," Methos said, reassembling Joan and pouring her back into her chair. "It could be a coincidence that the money was transferred out tonight, or it could be a legitimate business deal." "There's only one way to check," Rob said. "Let's visit the site and see if the work is really being done." He mashed the lumpy pasta sauce around with his spoon one more time before deciding he really didn't want to know. "All right. You two check it out and let me know. If it's not a legitimate business deal, we'll handle it from inside the Watchers." Methos stood up and coaxed the very relaxed Joan into standing up. "No offense," Rob said, "but you guys haven't been able to handle Horton yet. I think you better let us take care of it." He took Joan's other arm and helped the Immortal steer her toward the door. "We take care of our own, even if it does take two or three tries. Do you really want to get involved in something like this? What could you do?" Methos looked steadily at Rob. "I would have done it right the first time." Rob returned his stare. Unable to break the gaze, the two men stood there while Joanne paid the bill with one of the Watcher's stolen credit cards. "C'mon, Joan, let's get you back to the hotel. My car's outside." Joanne tilted Joan toward the door. The two men followed, still silent. Joanne thought to herself. Joan mumbled something about trampolines and they wobbled out the door. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Joanne Curme jcurme@pyramid.com K'immie Brigade leader for the first HL War =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 14:17:17 From: Jimmy Murphy Subject: WAR: Reunited, part one "Reunited, and it Feels so Good" pt. 1 by Jimmy Murphy March 19/20 (early-morning), 1AM Anne's house "Now this is more like it!" Jimmy thought to himself, barreling down highway 42 in the darkness. Since his Corniche had been left behind in his last ill-fated visit to Anne's house, he had been forced to borrow a car. Whose? He had no idea, but any one who would press their car keys into the hand of a man who had just bounced out of jail...twice....had to be a good friend. That was of no consequence to him; he was more concerned about getting to Anne's house. Sure, it was nearly 1AM, but after all that had happened in his quest to get to baby Mary's Christening, a little thing like a late hour was not going to stand in his way. Nor was that hunk-a-junk truck of Anne's neighbor's, which was nearly turned into a sardine can when Jimmy swerved to avoid it. Apparently, the old guy had not gotten it running before dark. At any rate, Jimmy wheeled into Anne's driveway as if his life depended on getting there one second sooner than he did. In a way, he felt that it was *Anne*'s life that depended on his getting there. That peculiar conversation with Horton surely had screwed up his thinking, and with all he had learned in the past few days, it took quite a lot to screw things up more. Horton was as menacing and devious as everyone said, but he could very easily have left Jimmy in that petri-dish called Seacouver County Jail, especially after the sarcastic remark Jimmy had made about Swiss Cheese from England. Horton had *claimed* to have paid off all of Jimmy's exhorbitant student loans (but Jimmy had no way of checking). He also seemed to have a firm grasp on how Anne was still thinking about MacLeod, even after all that had happened. Horton could not expect Jimmy to be some sort of hit-man, that's for sure; everyone in town had seen what a lousy shot he was. Besides, who could kill one of these Immortals by just shoting him? "Well, maybe if you shot him in the neck with a machine gun...." Jimmy wisely chose not to ressurect that dead horse. Horton did have one thing going for him, though, and that was his knowledge of things that had transpired in Seacouver between Duncan MacLeod and Anne Lindsey. Jimmy had gotten the idea that people were holding things back from him about the true nature of their relationship since MacLeod had claimed they were "over" last year. If Horton could be of any use, why not listen to him? It was not like Jimmy believed that shpiel about Hunters being on some sort of "Crusade against Evil"; he had stopped believing in "Crusades against Evil" after "America's Funniest Home Videos" was renewed. Jimmy sat in the driveway for a while, staring at the darkened house. Everyone was asleep, probably long since retired to get plenty of beauty rest for the big day...a big day that seemed to be going on despite the seeming absence of the designated godfather! Jimmy thought that Anne would have at least postponed the ceremony after discovering she could not contact him. "Maybe she knew some big, strapping Scotsman who could take my place on the pew...." he thought somewhat angrily. Suddenly, an upstairs light came on. Another. Soon every bedroom light had come on and the faint sounds of baby Mary's crying could be heard. From the car, Jimmy saw two or three women pacing in one room, with the baby in one woman's arms. Even before the thud of the car door's closure could be heard, Jimmy was joyously bounding up the lawn to the house, ready to see Anne and Mary. Anne, clad in a short silky pajama top, answered the door with widened eyes, with Mary still crying on her shoulder. "Jimmy! It's..it's you!" She was stumbling over her words a bit, and Jimmy could not tell if they were words of shock or of happiness...or something less cheery. "What happened to you? Where have you been? The Christening...." "Is tomorrow! I know," he interrupted, overcome with the realization that he was really seeing Anne again (and really *seeing her again*, if you know what I mean). Jimmy always thought that Mary would not be a bottle baby. "If you only knew what all happened!" Anne reached down to pull on the button of her pajama top, careful to keep Mary on her spit-up rag. Donna had heard most of the conversation and bounded down the stairs to greet her fellow godparent. Jimmy was unaware of the third woman surveying the scene, at least until Anne turned and said "Oh, Jimmy! This is Marie Chang! She was responsible for your notification about the Christening...or at least her assistant was." Marie fixed Jimmy with the coldest stare she could manage on such an otherwise sweet face. She crossed her arms defensively and said "So, this is the infamous Jimmy Murphy." "Note to self," Marie thought. "Fire assistant immediately." Part two on zeeeway... =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:46:53 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Things that go bump in the night by Carol Ann Liddiard Time: Wednesday, March 20, 1996, around 3 am Place: The Four Seasons Hotel Methos saw that Joan got through the hotel lobby safely, then headed back out. he thought as he began to climb balconies. He was so intent on finding the proper room (and not losing his handhold, this *is* the 20th floor we're talking) that he never noticed the tailless figure lurking in the shadows. Comet the wombat had had a long day. Stealthily, the wombat aimed the dart gun at the climbing immortal. Methos felt a small sting at the base of his neck, but mistook it for an insect bite. He pulled himself onto what he thought was the proper balcony, and entered the darkened room. Shaking with weariness from the fight and the climb, he shed his clothes and tumbled into bed, instantly unconscious. Comet smiled to herself and quickly leapt to Methos' balcony. Entering the room, she was surprised by it's emptiness. So startled was she by Methos' absence she didn't notice the growling until it was too late . . . ******************* Time: Wednesday, March 20, 1996, approximately 6:30 am Place: Carol Ann's room at the Four Seasons Carol Ann smiled in her sleep. After two days of escorting a drunken immortal she was finally getting some rest, and having a wonderful dream. She snuggled closer to the warm body of her dreamboat, enjoying the sensation. She frowned as at the edge of her consciousness she heard loud pounding. The pounding continued until finally the door burst open. "Carol Ann!" Yawning, Carol Ann rolled over to the nightstand to reach for her glasses but was stopped short. Rolling over to try and free her hair, she only succeeded in entangling herself further. She rolled back the way she had come, and found herself nose to, uh, nose with what she recognized (even without her glasses) as a sleepy Methos. He looked as confused as she did. The noise level in the room rose as every MFW began to crowd into the room, loudly berating her. "Carol Ann, how could you?" Seemed to be the sentence of choice, the noise of all the women as well as the barking of Heidi's dogs gave her a splitting headache. Looking again at Methos, who was seriously awake by now, Carol Ann wondered why she had bothered to answer her e-mail 3 days ago. she thought as she drew the covers over her head. *********** Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 09:34:12 From: Janette Z Subject: WAR: A VERY late Reservist Time: Saturday, 6:30am Place: My apartment Reason: Because it's about time Janette arrived home after her wonderful vacation in a great mood, only to find her best friend and roommate waiting up for her, with a grim expression on her face. "Janette, we need to talk." Brandy said softly. Janette narrowed her eyes and sat down, looking at her friend. "About?" "You know how you said you planned on never leaving New York again once you got home?" "Yeah?" "I think you should change your mind. I've been listening to your messages from your answering machine..." "BRANDY!!!???" Brandy shrugged. "Told you never to trust me. Anyway, apparently there's a war going on, and they want you in Seattle. Pronto." "What war?" Brandy looked at her like she was nuts. "Don't you ever read your e-mail?" she asked. "I just flashmail it and ignore it, except for the stories and the things I need to beta-read for Sandra, why?" "Never mind. You got a call from someone named Celli, she said there's a war going on." Janette sighed. "Where?" "You're not going to believe this. But, it's a war with Richie, Duncan, etc." Janette blinked. "Not a Forever Knight war?" "Not a Forever Knight war," Brandy repeated. "Well, when did she call?" "About a week or 2 ago." Brandy stood, and walked over to the television. "Anyway, if I were you I'd go." "You just want to get me out of the house again so you don't have to watch Highlander or Forever Knight," she accused. "Or Nightcrawler in Mickey mouse mode," Brandy agreed. "And don't you want to help out your faction?" "It's over a week or 2 into the war!" Janette complained. "So you're not going?" Brandy sounded resigned to more Nightcrawler, but Janette shook her head. "No, I'm going. This just means I'll have to get up again, doesn't it?" "If you'd like I'll call the airlines for you!" Brandy offered eagerly, anything to get rid of her roommate. "Will you pay for it to?" Janette asked hopefully, but Brandy shook her head. "Not a chance! You already owe me 200 dollars!" "For what?!" "The last Forever Knight war." "Hate to be the one to tell you this, but I was never IN a Forever Knight war." Janette said, giving her friend a look. Brandy shrugged. "Had to try." she said, and went to call the airlines. Janette got off the plane in Seattle (or is it Seacouver?, or Paris???!!!) sleepily, looking for her luggage, and then a pay phone to call a cab. It was then that she wondered just exactly where everyone was. ________________________________________________________________________ Richie Reservist, Ravenette, Immortal Beloved CO-CFW for Evil MacLeod, Janette92@aol.com "We have waited centuries for this moment, the rivers will flow with the blood of those who oppose us." --Kane, suspected leader of the Brotherhood of Nod. =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 15:49:18 From: Jimmy Murphy Subject: WAR: Reunited, part two "Reunited and it Feels So Good," pt. 2 by Jimmy Murphy March 20 early morning Anne's house "So that is *your* car....oh, I was wondering!" Anne said, somewhat relieved and tickled by the reason why Jimmy's car was present when Jimmy was not. He recounted most of the details of the mistaken identities and wrongful arrests, but left out substantial gaps. He was not exactly sure of how he could explain the idea that a war had been declared and that even the mortals were now getting involved in its resolution. Heck, up until the other day, he studied wars as a student. How could he explain his being thrust into one? "I don't care what you say, Jimmy, I am not going to bed until you tell me just how you got that cut across your forehead. It could get infected." Anne was looking at the cut, a side-effect of Jimmy's foray into marksmanship with the people at Joe's Bar. "Glass...just a piece of flying glass. Don't go all 'doctor' on me all of a sudden." She did anyway, and he really did not mind that much, either. She took him to the kitchen table and withdrew a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet. "Where'd you get that thing? Price Club?" It was the size of a small bleach bottle. He suddenly remembered that Anne was big on keeping her medicine cabinet well-stocked. As she patted his cut, she kept asking about school, about his dissertation, about the weather in the south...anything that sounded very neutral. Anne was well aware of the disapproving look on Marie's face. Donna decided that she would go back to bed and get to know Jimmy better in the morning. "See ya at the front!" she joked, climbing the staircase. "So..." Anne said, temporarily unable to come up with small talk, "....do you remember Marie? She was the hospital administrator when you and I worked together. Actually, you two might have passed each other a thousand times in the hallway." Marie put on her best smile, but only because she knew that was what Anne wanted. She extended her hand. "Which department? I had so many employees." Jimmy shook her hand, then held the cotton to his forehead. "Oh, I was pretty low on the totem pole. I was in the computer-aided research lab. I'm no longer in that, though." "Jimmy went to Georgia and is beginning a dissertation at Georgia Southern...in German History!" Anne somehow hoped that her "enthusiasm" would make Marie less frosty; it did not seem to be working. When Jimmy told Anne about the little kid that had broken into the house when he first arrived, Anne seemed concerned that Jimmy had walked into a potentially dangerous situation. "What situation? It was some vandal kid from nearby. I could have carried him out by the back of the neck, but I decided instead to wait him out. He crawled out the window upstairs and got away, but I'm sure he was harmless." Anne said nothing, but she remembered the last time she had encountered a mischievous kid who appeared harmless. In Anne's basement, Kenny was still a bit dazed from his recent electrocution at the hands of metal-handled pliers. He was awake, but he seemed to be giving off wisps of smoke whenever he moved about in the darkness. He had only succeeded in cutting power to the basement, so his only light source was the small window in one corner. "Oh, I just realized!" Anne said suddenly, "I have no more beds to offer! This huge house, and suddenly there's no room! We might have to share." Jimmy's eyes widened; Marie's teacup nearly slid off its saucer. "It's far too late for you to drive to your hotel, only to drive back. I have a cot in Mary's room and you're welcome to it." Jimmy had not slept in his hotel room once since arriving, so why not make it three for three? Jimmy still did not remember Marie very well despite the fact that they had been working in the same hospital for over three years. That job had not exactly been the best paying gig he'd ever had, but meeting Anne at the hospital had more than made up for it. The two of them had endured the cafeteria food together for three years, which was a test of resolve right there. The two of them had become close over mystery meat, he had once said. Jimmy could not recall Marie Chang beyond the name that had been on the top of corporation papers...so why was she so hostile? It was not until he saw her with Mary that he came to realize just what Anne had meant when she said Marie was "her Rock of Gibraltar". Marie knew. Kenny had been focused on causing Anne's night to be sleepless, but with this massive influx of people it looked as if she would be sleepless anyway. He toyed with the idea of just setting a pile of clothing on fire and leaving them all to die, but the window was too small for him to climb out of. He decided to eavesdrop on the conversation upstairs and learned that there would be a huge party there tomorrow. "MacLeod'll be there, I'm sure of it!" he thought. "And Amanda...yeah, this just might be my chance to kill three birds with one stone." Jimmy had spent over ten minutes standing over Mary's crib, admiring the sleeping angel in the moonlight. He could imagine her growing up, looking like her mom and being the smart, sensible woman that Anne was, always able to say things just the right way and keep a cool head under pressure. That was a trait that Jimmy knew he could never cultivate. It seemed all the mistakes of his flighty life were reflected and contained within this very house. "A house that Duncan built..." he murmured, using his best Barney the Dinosaur impression to disguise his disgust. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow cross his moonlight. Given the last time he had been approached that way, Jimmy jumped. Marie stepped into view, wearing what could only be called a poker face. "You might not remember me, but I surely do know you, Jimmy Murphy. The very name makes me angry, considering what you did...what you're doing." Jimmy flashed to Horton's evil grin for a moment, but remembered that flashbacks were only for Immortals. Marie continued. "I was here for Anne when you left her life in a shambles. She finally has some semblance of happiness back in her life...." she looked protectively over at the sleeping Mary. "I saw her go through hell and back and now you come in here acting like all is well? I won't have you trounce in here and ruin Mary's life the way you tried to ruin Anne's. Why couldn't you have had the decency to stay away and let Anne's heart mend? You may be Mary's biological father but you gave up all claim to a place in Mary's life when you took off!" Ohhhhh, I'll bet you saw that one coming, hmmm? =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 16:52:15 From: Rachel Smith Subject: WAR: The Return of Amanda Title: The Return of Amanda (okay, it's not that original. So sue me.) (Wait!!! STOP!!! I didn't mean that literally!!!) By: Rachel Date: 3.20.96 Time: Too early for comfort Location: Here and there, but mostly at Seacouver International Airport Randy came in looking like a mobster. Or maybe a billionaire. Silk scarf, black tie. I shook my head. He was so strange sometimes. He was acting really hyper. "How much Pepsi have you had this morning?" I asked suspiciously, as I tried to pull on some clothes. We were going to pick up Amanda at the airport. I was excited to be sure, but Randy was bouncing off the walls. "None! None! I didn't have any Pepsi!" he yelled. I think he was lying. "Next time I'm buying you caffeine free," I told him. I don't know if he heard me. Finally out of my entire wardrobe, I decided on a pair of jeans and a Kenyon College sweatshirt. It was big. It was purple. It would keep me warm enough that I wouldn't have to wear a jacket. Randy kept morphing. Wombat, human, wombat, human. I could hardly keep track. Finally I put my foot down and yelled that if didn't calm down I was going to take away his Coke *and* his Pepsi. Moreover I wasn't going to give him any more of my multi-colored pills. He tried to be calm. He really did. I was so impressed that I let him drive to the airport. I should have taken a cab. I really should have. He weaved in and out of lanes, he ran stop signs and red lights. By the time we got there, I thought I'd left my stomach back at the hotel, but after a little bit of walking it caught up with me. Amanda said she'd meet us at the TWA baggage claim. When we got there I promptly sat down and tried to fall back asleep as we waited for her flight to come in. Just as I was dozing off, Randy's ecstatic voice brought me back. "She's HERE! She's HERE!" he yelled. I lifted my heavy eyelids and there she was. She was taller then I imagined. She was a good five inches taller than I, but then, mostly everyone is. I was rather in awe of her at first, but then I realized she was just a regular (well maybe not so regular) woman with a unusually long life-span. We hit it off right away. We planned to stop at my hotel room first where we could both check our email, then meet up with the rest of the faction so we could go to the Christening together. When we got back, we started unpacking her rather massive array of luggage. She pulled out a short black dress. "Whaddya think?" she asked me. "For the Christening?" I asked a little dubiously. "Sure! Whyever not?" I shrugged. "It'll be fine." Then she grinned rather wickedly. "Wait til you see this!" she said, pulling me over. She showed me the katana space on the inside. It held a whip. I grinned as well. "Cool!" Then I noticed Randy. "Stop that!" I exclaimed. He had the sense to look embarrassed as he wiped the drool from his chin. janier@ix.netcom.com =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 20:33:39 From: Doc Anvil Subject: WAR: Far be it from me to correct a lady... ...but correcting Rachel? That's a different story altogether.. ;) Title: Far be it from me to correct a lady Author: Randy Ferrance When: Just after There Return of Amanda Where: da Hotel (which one, by the way?) Why? Because senseiRob has now outweirded me Let's be honest here. The only reason *I* seemed so hyper to *Rachel* was that *she* was still half asleep. 'nuff said. She was moving in slow motion, doing that woman thing of trying on every piece of clothing that she owned, or at least had here in Seacouver. But come on, dear combatants... you've read my posts. If I were truly that hyper, would I have stood blithely by and let her undress in front of me (like *she* admits she did) over and over again and not even remark upon it? HEH! Writchie has a better chance of taking Mandy's head, says I. Okay, I'll admit. I may have merely 'paused' at a few stop signs. The one I blatantly ran, well, there was no one coming. And besides, it was in the wrong language so, like Dunkie, I just assumed it didn't count. Oh, did you notice how restrained she was in not describing the ritual part of the meeting in the airport? Amanda now has a bruise to be proud of on the back of her left calf, though. > When we got back, we started unpacking her rather massive array of > luggage. She pulled out a short black dress. "Whaddya think?" she > asked me. > > "For the Christening?" I asked a little dubiously. > > "Sure! Whyever not?" "You brought it!" I exclaimed. "It's *perfect*." God, I love that woman. > > Rach shrugged. "It'll be fine." > > Then Amanda grinned rather wickedly. "Wait til you see this!" she said, > pulling Rach over. She showed her the katana space on the inside. It > held a whip. > >She grinned as well. "Cool!" > And I do not recall looking embarrased. In fact, I'm rather proud that Amanda likes to show of the Christmas gift I bought her. The TV was on, but we were all ignoring it, till a familiar face came on the screen. I dove for the remote, but Amanda got their first, flashing me an evil grin, cranking the volume, then dropping the remote down into her top. That, of course, made me want to go after it even more, but, I'm told, there may be fw's of an age less than 18 about. And with the CDA and all..... "Randy, is that *you?*" Rachel asked. "No," I lied. Like that worked. The footage had been shot just an hour before. There I was, in my tux and white scarf, surrounded by jackals at the front gate of Sanctuary. I had finally given in and agreed to make a short statment. "Yes," I watched myself say, "it is true that I was accosted by a weasel yesterday afternoon, and yes, said weasel did subsequently spontaneously combust." "Is there any truth to the rumor that you actually *shot* this weasel?" one of the jackals asked. "I can neither confirm nor deny that rumor," I said. "All I can say is that truth serum was involved." Someone else was shoving a mini-TV in my face. "What do you have to say to this, sir?" he asked. "DON'T CALL ME SIR!!" "Aside from that." I watched myself watching the clip. At the bottom of the screen, the words "Weaselcam" flashed off and on. I was staring straight out of the little picture, firing the Beretta at the screen, apparently. "Damn," I said, shocked at seeing that this footage existed. "The bitch set me up!" Amanda turned to me, her arms crossed, an eyebrow arched. "You killed a weasel?" she asked. "Hey, come on, it wasn't killing. It was a weasel, for God's sake." "Still, Randy," Rachel said. "In the middle of a war? Do we really need this right now?" "It's not like I planned this," I protested. "And all I did was hit her with the truth. Is it my fault if she couldn't handle the truth?" "Not the point, Anvil," Rach said. "The truth will set us free?" I tried. "Randy," Amanda broke in. "The truth is out there?" They were both glaring at me now. "Is there, in truth, no beauty?" I was running out here. Finally, Amanda sighed, and pouted (she gets paid by the pout, you know). "Well, what's done is done," she said. "No sense crying over lost heads." "That's what I say," I agreed. Will the Anvil go to jail? Does anyone care? Will iron bars hold an anvil? Does anyone care? Hang on, folks. More later. That's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but- "RANDY!!" "Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry." =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 22 Mar 1996 19:32:53 From: Sandy Fields Subject: WAR: Best Laid Plans Title: Best Laid Plans Author: Sandy Fields Date: Wednesday, 3/20/96 8 a.m. Location: Seacouver Hilton Sandy looked up from the screen of her laptop with a big wide grin. "Wake up everybody" she said to her four sleeping friends. They were deep into dreams of Duncan MacLeod, no doubt. It was one of those squidgy "Duncan" dreams that had awakened her so early this morning; and since she hadn't been able to go back to sleep, she had decided to check her email and see if her contact had sent her anything important. She looked around the room. No one had moved. "WAKE UP! We finally have an assignment!" "What on earth are you shouting about, Sandy?" Jo did not appreciate being so abruptly awakened from such a wonderful dream, and the look in her eyes conveyed that message to Sandy quite effectively. The others were sitting up waiting for some explanation. They too had visions of Duncan dancing in their heads (must be the air in Seacouver). "We finally have an assignment and we have to check our gear 'cause we might have to go out and buy a few things before we head over there." "Head over where?" Charlotte asked on her way to the shower. "Over to Anne's. Mary's Christening is today and there'll be some folks there that need our attention. It's all been planned, but we need to get an early start." "Oh!" Barb shot straight up in the bed. "Duncan'll be there!" "Yes, he'll be there, but we won't be seeing him -- not today anyway. We're not actually going to the Christening." The disappointment was quite evident on everyone's face. *********************** An hour later: Jo was going over all the equipment the ladies had brought. "Glasses, coats, wire-cutters, shampoo, conditioner... I think that's about all that we can use for this one." Sandy agreed. "We'll have to do a little shopping for the rest. She scribbled some notes on a couple of pieces of paper and handed one to Tiye. "You think you can do this, girlfriend?" "Sure", Tiye boasted. I used to go with an auto mechanic. Piece o' cake." Barb looked down at her note. "Fish market? Why me?", Barb wanted to know. "I'm sorry, Barb, but somebody's gotta do this. Jo is going with you. And you won't even have to pay anything for it. I'm sure they'll give it away! You know what to do, right?" "Yeah", said Jo. "... we know what to do." She was NOT happy with this assignment. "So what are you and Charlotte gonna be doing in the meantime?" "We have to find the four-legged surprise. An they don't sell these in pet stores. I've made contact with a couple of people through email that might be able to help us out, though. And I've also contacted the salesman. And he's looking forward to this job! He didn't like that awful thing anymore than the rest of us did." "Barb, just make sure that the people at the fish market understand that we'll be back to pick up the stuff 5:00, OK? We want to get to Anne's around 6:00." And with that, they all headed out the door in search of just the right equipment to complete their assignments. Motor City Mama =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 24 Mar 1996 17:45:37 From: Lizbet Ann Subject: WAR: Charge of the MFW Brigade (Part 1) Charge of the MFW Brigade (Part One) by Elizabeth Ann Lewis Wendesday, March 20 Computer Room Too darn early in the morning (8am) One by one, various MFWs arrived in the computer room in response to Charlyne's e-mail summonds. Charlyne was bent over the computer, typing furiously, and missed the black looks Carol Ann got as she entered the room, followed by two adorable long-haired cats, the larger of which immediately tried to settle on the computer keyboards, much to Charlyne's disgust. With much cooing and baby-talk, Carol Ann removed the cat and went to slouch in a corner of the room, trying to avoid everyone's eyes. "OK, are we all here?" Charlyne asked. There was a ragged chorus of "ayes" from around the room. Methos asked, "Charlyne, what's going on?" "I found where Lizbet is. Or, at least where she was when she sent her e-mail message. It's an estate on the corner of Ocean Drive and 143rd Street. And, considering the message I got this morning, we have no reason to believe that she has been moved." ------------------------------------------ >TO: Charlyne Walker >From: Anonymous@secret.net >Subj: Meeting ASAP > >If you want to get Lizbet back unharmed Adam Pierson had better meet us by >noon today. We know you have the address. He better come alone and unarmed. ------------------------------------------ "No way we're going to let Methos go alone," Deb said. "Who knows what could happen to him? Or to Lizbet," she added as an obvious afterthought. She might be fond of her fellow HeLLLon, but she certainly wasn't Methos! "I have a plan," Lisa announced. "OK, people, here's my idea..." ********* Meanwhile, back at Sanctuary... Kathleen Wombat woke Lizbet. "You're going to be rescued at noon today. All right?" Lizbet sat up and stretched, hating more than usual to wake up. Her bed was soft and huge, with a satin cover and a canopy. Her bedroom was beautiful, the bathroom sinfully opulant. All in all, she wouldn't mind staying here forever. But she would never meet Methos that way. "Sounds good to me," she mumbled, trying to find the floor with her feet and missing. She had been kidnapped without her glasses, so until she got her contacts in in the morning, she was as blind as a (wom)bat. "What's for breakfast?" -------------------------------------- Lizbetann@aol.com =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 25 Mar 1996 08:46:05 From: LC Krakowka Subject: WAR: Blazing Saddles (MFW Cavalry steps in) Title: Blazing Saddles Author: LC Krakowka (with a scene from Charlyne) Time: 8:20am (approx--start) Place: MFW HQ--the Computer Room. "Why is everyone being so mean to Carol Ann?" Lisa asked, having missed the now infamous bedroom scene. "Don't ask," Carol Ann moaned, stroking the large cat in her arms. Charlyne explained the situation. They had exactly four hours to rescue Lizbet. Lisa stood there frowning in her riding clothes, still haven't having had time to go shopping for more appropriate attire. Heidi appeared at her elbow holding the leash of one of her beagles and grinning widely. "This looks like a job for the cavalry," she said. A wicked smile crossed the tall woman's face. "You get the old dude, I'll go scare us up some horses. Meet me out front in a few minutes." "You guys need any help?" one of the PSGs asked from the corner. "Nope. This is exactly what we have been training for. Leave it to us. If we're not back by 2:30, get ready to leave without us, we'll get Adam and Lizbet to the church." Lisa turned on a booted heel and practically skipped out of the room. At last! A few minutes later Heidi and her dogs, Adam, and Charlyne appeared through the revolving doors of the hotel and joined Lisa at the curb. "Someone has been babbling at me about horses," Adam said. "I don't see any horses." "Oh ye of little faith," Lisa chuckled up at him and put two fingers to her lips, giving a sharp blast of a whistle that rung in everyone's ears. From around the corner, three large horses came snorting and galloping up, skittering to a halt in front of them. Lisa tossed the reins of a huge black American Saddlebred to Heidi with a wink. "For you, Methos," She indicated a nice bay. "You'll have to carry Charlyne along, she's dying to talk to you." "How did you do that?" He asked, taking the reins. Lisa grinned and winked at him, throwing her leg over a large grey thoroughbred. "Heidi, do the dogs have something of Lizbet's to scent off of?" "We have the address," Heidi answered, clambering into the saddle...more than a little disappointed that Charlyne was getting the pleasure of wrapping her arms around the old guy. "Even better. Are we ready?" Adam pulled a somewhat startled Charlyne up behind him and nodded. Might as well do this right. Cue the sound track. Heidi grinned yet again and kicked her horse into a rear as the beagles started braying and straining against their leashes. Charlyne grabbed Adam's elbow as he was about to repeat Heidi's action. "Look, I can ride and all," she said, "but just remember that you have a passenger back here." "Heidi! Release the hounds!" Lisa called. "Candygram!" With another blast of fanfare and the howling of suddenly free beagles, they galloped off down the middle of the street. Innocent bystanders scattered and one young man later told the press that he distinctly heard the tall Englishman with the woman riding double yell "Yippie kai yai yay!" as they flew down the sidewalk. About thirty minutes later, they slowed to a trot and Lisa pulled out a map. During the mad gallop Charlyne had leaned in close to Methos' ear. There were a few things she had been meaning to speak to him about and this seemed like it might be her only chance to get him alone. Charlyne threw out her opening gambit, "I told you when we met that I would explain to you why you owed me a new wig. Well here's the story..." She gave him a brief sketch of how he arrived at the hotel, hoping all the while that he would be able to understand her over the rushing wind. It is hard to sound righteously indignat when one is riding double on a horse that is moving at full gallop. As the small group slowed down to check the map, Charlyne had Methos drop back for a moment. "I don't mind helping, however, I should not have had to make a fool of myself because of a 5000 year old drunk. We are all concerned about you, but we can't help you to survive if you don't help yourself." Turning around to face her, Methos gave her one of his enigmatic smiles and simply said, "Just remember, everything is not always as it seems." "I know that you have no idea who we are, but we are here to help. Just remember, the are more fish in the sea but you have to keep your head if you want to do more fishing."she replied "Besides, you have to take care of yourself, you don't want to let your flag wavers down!" Charlyne added with a wink. "No, that I don't" He said as he leaned over and give her a kiss on the cheek. He then turned around and trotted the horse back to the others. *I hope the others didn't see that* Charlyne thought to herself, they still haven't forgiven Carol Ann for Methos being in her bed. As Adam looked around and Charlyne flushed from the kiss, Heidi trotted over to Lisa and called the dogs to sit. "This is Ocean Drive...143rd street should be a block up or so," she said. Lisa nodded, slightly agape at the spacious estates that surrounded them. "So, why exactly did we take that nice little jaunt again?" Adam asked. "Admit it," Lisa said, giving her horse his head. "You had fun." He grinned. "We have to save Lizbet." Heidi said. "Right, and I don't suppose the cavalry is going to face the bad guys, either," Adam slid to the ground and helped Charlyne off. "Sorry, we're just here to provide transportation," Lisa dropped to the ground and took his reins. "But if Lizbet yells, we'll come running." He sighed. Under normal circumstances, galloping around with three lovely women might wind up with a nice picnic and some wine. But nothing had been going his way...not since Lexa had announced her recovery back in Athens. "I'm really just too old for this," he muttered. "Relax," Lisa gripped his shoulder supportively. "I have a feeling you'll win this one...and Lizbet's undying gratitude." "Nice spurs," he smiled and turned to walk up the street. "Um...Adam?" Lisa asked. He turned back around. "I'm afraid that I have to confiscate any liquor you might have on you, there is too much time for you to get into trouble before Lizbet needs you." "Where would I hide liquor?" He asked, feining shock. This young lady was good. And nearly his height...there were only three or four of them in the crew that he could even come close to looking in the eye. "Hand it over, or I'll have Heidi search you for it. We all know about those mysterious spaces in your trench coats to hide swords and the like." Nearby, Heidi rubbed her hands with glee. Methos vaguely remembered many women pawing him in the last few days. "Okay, you win, here." He pulled a bottle of beer out of an inside pocket and handed it to her. Lisa took it with a smile, then waved her hand expectantly. "Any more?" "Damn, you're too young to be this perceptive," he produced two more bottles and handed them over. "Thank you," she smiled. "I want those back," he wagged a finger at her and grinned. "Certainly." He flashed the three women one last grin and walked off, shoving his hands into his pockets. Heidi slid to the ground and scooped up one of the dogs, hugging it closely. "And there goes the hero...off to swashbuckle and save the day," she said with a sigh. Lisa chucked her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll get to ride double on the way back. Mean time, we have three beers and three thirsty flag wavers. What luck." -- LC Krakowka/ hck1@cornell.edu| ***MFW Cavalry--We're tougher than we look.*** http://krakowka.cit.cornell.edu/hpage/lisa.html A bow-shot from her bower-eaves/ He rode between the barley sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves/And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. -Tennyson =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 20:17:09 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Comets, portents and unexpected trips 960320 Wednesday morning, breakfast time, Richie's place Laura Michaels checked her mail before breakfast hoping to find a a post from Virginia. The last message caught her eye. It was from Ervin, a friend and ex-coworker she still kept in touch with even after they'd both left Halliburton. Wonder what Ervin could be writing about. Maybe a new programming library? She looked at the message. It covered the usual, mentions of the Borg, X-Files, programming references, this time to gnu (as in _G_nu's _N_ot _U_nix, don't programmers come up with the most interesting acronyms?) BISON and FLEX, some questions about DFLAT which she'd mentioned checking into in a previous post. Along with that was something not so usual. Both Ervin and Laura enjoyed talking about physics and astronomy, though Ervin seemed to keep up with that kind of thing much better. Ervin had written to tell her about the comet Hyakutake. Laura wondered if it would be visible this far north in Washington or if it would only be clear in the southern states like Texas (where Ervin was) and Florida (where Ervin probably assumed Laura would still be). She was about to tell everyone about the comet, but then stopped. She and Carol Ann had been working on an original novel and one of the pieces of folklore she'd turned up in her research was that sightings of comets either heralded very unpleasant events and bad luck or very good luck. Usually it was a portent of very bad luck. Of course, she wasn't superstitious and knew Richie wasn't the type to be, but she wondered what some of the older Immortals would think. She decided to keep quiet and not mention it to anyone. No reason for the word to get passed around between the factions and make everyone even more jumpy. They'd probably be too busy with the war to notice anyway. And besides, it wasn't like it was an announcement of bad sunspots coming up to plague communications even more than they were already being plagued. (Laura was still sure that the current communications problems were a plot by the bad guys, but everyone else seemed to be ignoring her suspicions.) Laura went back to checking her e-mail. She saw it. Finally, a message from Virginia. It read: Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 09:16:59 From: Virginia Foster To: lauram3017@aol.com Subject: update Connor and I are headed to New York. Virginia ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Virginia Foster ***** vfoster@mindspring.com Flag waver for Connor MacLeod / Christopher Lambert ("Same clan, different vintage" / "Dare to Dream ") *** Christopher Lambert Online Fan Club *** http://members.aol.com/CLFanClub/home.html **** Now open!! my very own web page :-) ***** http://www.mindspring.com/~vfoster/va.html "You went where?!" Laura asked out loud rhetorically. The rest of the group looked up from breakfast or watching TV and stared at her. "Connor and Virginia are headed to New York," Laura explained. The group went back to whatever they were doing. Either they thought she was crazy or they were a lot more _interested_ in the current whereabouts of their idol, Richie, (who happened to be right there) than in Connor. Or maybe it was both. Laura studied the message again, this time more quietly. *That's it? Her sig was longer than her message.* She considered writing back to see what was going on, but the way the e-mail was working she probably wouldn't get a response until after the war. Laura pulled up her AOL address book and found her pen pal Polly's address, then started typing. To: PollyH425 CC: Subject: Status Report File: Polly, help! I'm trying to get in touch with Virginia who's currently with Connor MacLeod and supposedly on the way to New York. I have no idea what's going on on their end, but there's a war going on here and we could use some help. You were at DragonCon with some of the other members of the Christopher Lambert Online Fan Club last year. Did Connor mention anyplace he could be reached in New York? I need to get in touch with them. May The Force Be With You (especially during that Star Wars game you've been so busy with). Laura Michaels http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html She sent the e-mail off and hoped that she would get lucky and catch Polly just before she checked her e-mail for the day. Then she grabbed the bag of cereal she'd brought with her so she wouldn't starve at the Galactica convention and joined the others who were already eating breakfast. Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 24 Mar 1996 00:49:34 From: Polly Hood Subject: WAR: ''Connor at DragonCon '95'' Who: Polly Hood ( in search of Connor & other CL look-alikes) When: (late,as usual) Wednesday, March 20,1996 (just after ''WAR:Comets, Portents, and unexpected trips'') Where: near Houston,Texas (the flatlands) Hi, Laura ! Good to hear from you! Can't believe you're really hanging out at Richie's! I mean, I got to see him last Oct.at The Gathering, but that's not like sharing pizza! :j You were lucky to catch me in between *days* of trying to fly myself out of the Mining Tunnels of Rebel Assault 2. It took me so long to get out of there,that going on to fly the Asteroid Belt and being shot at by the Imperial bucket-heads seemed like a vacation! And here I am at last...late for the *big* War....or can one be late for a war? So you remembered that I was at DragonCon last summer!! It was terrific, but easy to get turned around, and folks in costumes all over the place! We didn't know if we'd really get to meet Christopher or just Lord Rayden, there to promote Mortal Kombat. As it turned out,we got to see them both,and Connor MacLeod,too, at the same hotel! There was an *amazing* resemblance!! What confused a lot of people was that Connor ended up getting his trenchcoat switched with Rayden's MK crew jacket! Of course, I was very curious as to whether the famous katana stayed with the famous trenchcoat or came along with Connor and that short black jacket, but I couldn't get up the nerve to ask. It was a dead give-away who was who when Connor tried on Chris' glasses and yelped! Then there's that thing Connor has for anchovies, while Chris prefers [to be] vanilla ice cream with lots of different toppings.:j We were all talking about travel plans for the rest of the summer. Naturally, most of us mortals were just going back to home and jobs. Rayden just smiled knowingly, flashed his eyes, and disappeared in a bolt of blue lightning. Chris said he lived on a plane, and was heading back to London to finish up a movie. Connor talked about checking out "the old place" on Hudson Street in New York. When someone asked about Nash's Antiques,and he just gave us that quick little smile. Said something about packing up some old stuff his cousin "out West" might be interested in. A truly unforgettable day of immortal memories! :) Well, good luck with shopping for that baby gift, Laura. Maybe Ann would like something antique. Teddy bears are always a big hit! Bet Virginia isn't the least bit worried about having to tag along with Connor. Who needs e-mail ? :j Oh yeah, you asked about the address of the antique store...it's at 1182 Hudson Street, New York, N.Y., 10013. I know you will be discreet about sharing this information. So what's doing 'out west'? Should I come check it out,or are you heading for NewYork? Let me know ! Don't lose your head! PollyH425@aol.com (Polly Hood) (alias PontoonPol) ========================================================================== Date: Mon, 25 Mar 1996 16:39:17 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Who you gonna call? 960320 Wednesday morning, after breakfast, Richie's place, just after WAR: ''Connor at DragonCon '95'' Laura Michaels finished her breakfast and checked her e-mail again. She hoped there would be a message from Polly. She really wanted to know what was going on and with the mail problems, it was proving to be extremely difficult. Laura was very excited to find Polly's reply. At the end of it was the information she needed. Now all she had to do was get a phone number to go with the address. She debated on going to the library to get one of those backwards reference phone books like she'd seen on MacGyver and used often enough before. Probably wasn't time. Well, she could e-mail Jason, one of her many relatives in New York. He was studying for his doctorate at Julliard. Probably take him forever to e-mail back though. *I'll call information.* Lucky she knew the number for information in New York. With so many relatives living there, it came in very useful. Laura picked up her new cell phone looked at it warily and then dialed information in New York. "Hello," she said, "I need the phone number for Nash Antiques, 1182 Hudson Street, New York, New York, 10013." She typed the number the lady gave her into her Programmer's File Editor. Good think her web page had links to useful programming related utilities like PFE as well as the links to fanzine related information. It was one of the first programs she downloaded when she was setting up her new laptop. After she got off the phone, she stared at the number for a moment. Why did it sound so familiar? Laura gave up trying to figure it out and dialed 1-212-555-2368. "Nash Antiques," Rachel Ellenstein answered. "Hello, I'm trying to get in touch with Connor MacLeod," Laura told the lady. There was silence for a moment and then she answered. "There's no one here by that name." "Are you sure? A good friend of mine said I might be able to get in touch with him through Nash Antiques. Maybe someone at the store knows him." "Sorry. There's no Connor MacLeod here." "Well how about Virginia Foster?" "I certainly don't know anyone by that name," Rachel replied. "She might show up later. She's a friend of Connor's and my friend said Connor would probably go to Nash Antiques while he was in New York. Could you give Virginia or Connor a message if you do see them?" "I suppose I could," Rachel said. "Tell them I called and am desperately trying to get in touch with them," Laura said. "What's your name?" asked Rachel. "Laura Michaels." "And where can you be reached?" Laura looked at her cell phone. Might as well get some use out of it. She read the number printed on the cell phone. "555- 6162." "And the area code?" Rachel asked. "The area code?" That was a good question. She looked over at the rest of the group. The others probably didn't know the local area code and Richie was busy with something and she didn't want to interrupt. "I don't know. Whatever the area code for Seacouver, Washington is. Virginia can always check the local library." They had a really nice one in New York, the New York Public Library. "All right. If your friends show up, I'll let them know." "Thanks." Laura hung up and then looked at the number on the cell phone. *555-6162. That's the A-Team's phone number.* She knew that because she'd spent enough time typing in and editing Michele's A-Team episode guide for her own 'zine DISTASIS. *I hope I don't end up getting a lot of wrong numbers for the A-Team or even worse . . . from that lawyer firm T & T.* B.A. had once had the problem of getting his cell phone number mixed up with that lawyer firm's number and it didn't stop ringing for a minute. Then Laura looked down at the phone number typed into PFE for Nash Antiques. *Isn't that the phone number for Ghostbusters?* She thought it was the same number, after all, she'd used it in a script she'd written for that show. She wondered how many weird phone calls Nash Antiques got because of their phone number. No wonder the lady answering the phone sounded so uncomfortable when she'd asked for Connor. *And what's with all these Hollywood 555 exchanges anyway?* Maybe it was a cell phone thing. *Well at least this time if anyone calls I'll finally get to use that line I've been wanting to try out.* Laura had always wanted to put it on her answering machines at work but was afraid her bosses would freak. It was the same line Janette had used in the Ghostbusters script, *Ghostbusters, if you have a problem, if no one else can help and if you can find us . . . .* Well no sense waiting for Virginia to try to get in touch with her. Laura started the AOL program and put together a reply for Polly. To: PollyH425 CC: Subject: re: 'Connor at DragonCon '95' File: Still haven't been able to get in touch with Virginia and Connor. Called Nash Antiques and left a message, but the lady there said she'd never heard of them. >>So what's doing 'out west'?Should I come check it out,or are >>you heading for NewYork? I'm staying in Washington for now. Wouldn't even know where to look for Virginia and Connor in New York at this point and I am not looking forward to seeing my relatives again. If you can manage to get out here, please do. I could use the help. Besides, maybe the two of us can rent a decent motel. Staying at Richie's place is not all it's cracked up to be and if I don't get a decent night's sleep, I'll be no use to anyone including Richie, Connor and myself. I was staying at the Ramada during the Galactica con. It's a really classy place with crystal chandeliers, indoor pool and everything, but it's $150 a night and that was the convention rate. Doubt we'll still be able to get it at that price now. However, when I was checking out the phone book Saturday looking for book stores, nurseries that sell herbs and other interesting places, I caught a glance of a hotel named the Lambert Inn. Remember the Lambert Inn I told you about when I stayed in Orlando? Maybe it's a chain. It was only $25 a night in Orlando. Not very classy, but at least it was reasonable and clean. If you want, I'll check into getting us a room. >>Well, good luck with shopping for that baby gift, Laura. Maybe >>Anne would like something antique. Teddy bears are always a >>big hit! You know me by now. I'm going to make her something. A baby record book actually. Now all I have to do is dig up a sheet of typewriter paper to make the card. Richie's got to have some of that around here somewhere. Just hope Anne doesn't mind if I don't find time to wrap it. Hope you can come out here. I could _definitely_ use the help. If you hear from Virginia before I do, contact me. You can probably reach me at 555-6162 when you get here. Oh and if the A-Team just happens to pick up, tell them we'd like to hire them. Laura Michaels http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html Laura didn't even bother to read over the message for typos. She started the AOL flashsession and watched it get mailed. Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 17:56:34 From: Sheila Marie Lane Subject: WAR: Where's a camera when you need one? WAR: Where's a camera when you need one? Wednesday morning Richie's apartment Celli sat on the couch in jeans and her Due South sweatshirt. She sipped a Coke and watched the rest of the gang scurrying around. She looked over at Jen Hawthorne, similarly dressed and with an equally smug look on her face. "Don't you just hate formal events?" Celli asked in a pleased tone before returning to the Writer's Digest in her lap. Jen grinned and nodded. The bathroom was filled with bodies squirming around an over each other to get to the mirror, sink, and various beauty implements. Richie stood outside the door, trying futilely to herd his flagwavers out so he could get ready. For once, nobody was listening to him. David stood next to him, fighting a grin. "I told you you should have gotten up earlier, Richie." "Shut up." Richie gave up and wandered to the couch. He sat on the edge and looked down at Celli. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he grumbled. Celli sent him a decidedly unfriendly look over the top of her magazine. "You can't blame me for this one, Richie. I didn't tell you to wake up an hour *later* than usual on the day of Mary's christening." He started to retort, but thought better of it and stalked to the kitchen. A cell phone rang as he passed it. He snatched it up and snarled, "What?" "Uh, hello?" The voice was female and fairly young, with a trace of an East Coast accent and more than a trace of confusion. "Richie?" "Yeah?" "Um, I think I'm supposed to be...I mean, I'm...Is Celli there?" He crossed to the couch and dumped the phone in Celli's lap. "Gee, thanks, hon," she said sarcastically as she picked the phone up. "Hello?...Janette! Where are you?...Oh, thank goodness! I was starting to worry about you! I hope you're dressed well, there's a christening today." She grabbed for a pen and started scribbling numbers down. "Okay, I'll send someone to get you. I'm glad to hear from you, Janette....Okay. Bye." She hung up the phone and yelled. "Hey! Flagwaver news!" The bathroom emptied in a second. Richie stared in disbelief, then bolted in. "What's up?" Kim asked excitedly. "Did you find Wendy?" Laura Michaels said. "I thought they already found her," the other Laura said. "No, I--what?" Celli turned to stare at Laura. "I still haven't found Wendy. What are you talking about?" "But I thought so, too," Dine interjected. "Remember? You said, 'Wendy's on hold.' I thought she called you." Several others nodded agreement. "No!" Celli yelped. "I meant, our plans to *find* Wendy were on hold. Nobody's still heard from her--at least, that I know of. Yeesh, you use one slang term and it's disaster city." "What city?" Beth asked with a grin. "I thought we were in Seacouver." She easily ducked the (empty) Coke can that hurtled her way. "The point is," Celli said clearly, if through gritted teeth, "we have another member in town. Janette Zeitler, remember her? She's at the airport. You'll have to pick her up before the christening." She handed Beth the sheet of paper with the arrival gate on it. They all made understanding noises and, as one, headed back to the bathroom. The group stopped in shock when they found it locked. "Who's in there?" Beth tried the handle again. "Don't come in here!" Richie's voice was muffled but still clear. "Aw, c'mon Richie, we need the mirror!" Kim yelled. "I'm in the shower!" The looks on their faces were priceless. "Towel?" they said in unison. Then all of them jumped for the door--even Jen joined them, yelling something about lockpicking--except for Celli, rolling her eyes on the couch, and David, laughing hysterically right behind them. "Where's a camera when you need one?" he said, gasping for breath. ########################################################################## Sheila Marie Lane slane@sunbird.usd.edu http://www.usd.edu/~slane ########################################################################## "Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" -- Marvin the Martian (Welcome to the War!) ########################################################################## =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 25 Mar 1996 23:44:55 From: Virginia Foster Subject: WAR: Adventures in New York, Part 1 Adventures in New York (part 1) when: Wednesday 3/20 AM (after Who You Gonna Call) Where: New York, Nash Antiques By: Virginia Foster As the plane came in for a landing at JFK International in New York Virginia couldn't help but stare out of the window. This was her first trip to New York, and what made it better was to be with Connor. He'd been promising her a trip to New York for some time, but unfortunately this trip was not exactly all for fun. Just as the war was breaking out in Seacouver, Connor had gotten a call from Rachel Ellenstein. The antique store had been broken into and several valuable pieces were missing. Virginia asked Connor "Do you think it has anything to do with the war?" He replied "Probably not, but Rachel was not willing to give me list of the stolen items over the phone. Once I know what is missing we'll have an idea of whether or not this Horton person was involved. It could just be coincidence you know." She sighed, "I know, but still the timing worries me. People are missing, Chronicles are missing. At last count there were several Hortons running around. I want to know how he found out about you. We haven't been involved." Connor gave her a look, "and so far we are not involved. We won't be until we know more about the break in. Relax. You have your computer, and can check on things from my place. (au. note: if you people thought I was going to New York and NOT see Connor's apartment, well you were wrong ) Once the plane had landed there were the usual delays in getting the luggage. As they went by several sensors, Virginia wondered again, just how do Immortals get by metal detectors carrying their swords? Must be something in the katana space. Pushing the question aside for another time, she followed Connor through the maze of airport (and I thought Hartsfield was bad!) and out to where he had left the silver Porsche in private parking. Soon they were pulling out of the parking lot and headed towards Nash Antiques. Rachel was waiting for them at the door. "Mr. Nash! I'm glad you're here. I'm terribly sorry that I had to interupt your trip, but I felt you needed to know about this. " "That's ok, Rachel. What's wrong? Other than the break in." Connor could see that Rachel was much more upset than she had been earlier. She eyed Virginia and pulled Connor towards the office. "There was a phone call earlier, for Connor MacLeod. I, of course, told them there was no such person." "What else did he say?" Connor wanted to know. "Well, it was a young lady, not a man. And she also asked to speak to a Virginia Foster. What is going on? Another...?" she seemed reluctant to say much in front of Connor's guest. "Virginia" he called "please come here, I'd like you to meet Rachel. Rachel Ellenstein, meet Virginia Foster. We meet some years ago when I was on a trip in Atlanta. We saw each other again last year when I went for an antique show and got confused with an actor that was in Atlanta for a fantasy convention." Virginia held out her hand, which Rachel shook. "Does she know.." Rachel started to ask, but Connor cut her off. "Yes, she knows *everything*. You can tell her about the phone call while I look over the list of stolen items. Connor disappeared into his office and Rachel told Virginia about the call. "A young woman, Laura Michaels, called. She was looking for Connor MacLeod, then asked for you. Here is her number. You'll have to look up the area code." Virginia read the message and number. Thanking Rachel, she followed Connor into the office. "Connor, the call was from Laura. My friend in Seacouver. But I don't know how she got the store number, I didn't give it to anyone else. I guess she called information. Things must be getting worse in Seacouver, so I'll call her back. As soon as we know something about the robbery." She wasn't sure if Connor had heard her. He was rather engrossed in a copy of the police report. Thankfully, the dectectives that knew Russell Nash from years ago had moved on, and the people there now, knew nothing of the incidents from nearly ten years ago. "Connor?" she asked again. "Yes, I did hear you", he smiled at her. "I think we are ok here. All that was stolen was several vases. There was a sword taken, but who is going to travel from Washington to New York to steal a sword? And not one of the better ones at that." "And that's all?", she asked, knowing that there were already several missing chronicles. "Yes, that's all." He knew what she was hinting at. Connor had never explained how he knew about Watchers, but he did. He also knew that Rachel Ellenstein, for the past 5 years, had been his Watcher. Virginia assumed it was hard to keep secrets from a 478 year old Immortal. "I should call Laura back and let her know everything here is ok. Shall I tell when we plan to be in Seacouver?" "So I take it we are still going?" "Well of course, there is a war on, and they may need our help." What Virginia didn't add is that she also hoped to at least catch a glimpse of the legendary Methos. sigh... to be continued in "Adventures in NY part 2: phone calls" ------------------------ Virginia Co-War Chief for Connor MacLeod for the HL Gathering. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Virginia Foster ***** vfoster@mindspring.com Flag waver for Connor MacLeod / Christopher Lambert ("Same clan, different vintage" / "Dare to Dream ") http://www.mindspring.com/~vfoster/va.html =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 22 Mar 1996 16:28:13 From: Enmare Subject: WAR: Deliverance Title: Deliverance By: Enmare Time: Wednesday Morning, March 20th Location: a cheap hotel room across from Joe's Peter Horton knocked on the door again, and waited. Shrugging, he started pounding on the door constantly. Finally, the door opened and Enmare blinked up at him. "Why weren't you up?" he demanded. Enmare just blinked a little faster. "At any rate, here's the package. You know what to do." Peter pulled on a piece of rope, and a dog came into view. A poodle came into view, complete with a pom pom on its tail. A poodle with a very badly done haircut. Enmare took the leash when Peter held it out to her. "Package?" Enmare asked, crossing her eyes as she tried to focus on the dog. " 'D'. Remember?" -D- Enmare thought, -Vampire Hunter D? But I'm not in Japan or Toronto...- Peter continued. "I don't know why we don't just kill you and everyone else in an explosion and be done with it." Enmare blinked again. "Because it's early in the morning and I haven't had my coffee yet?" she asked tentatively. Peter stomped down the stairs and to the waiting car. The phone rang. "Yes." "At least this time it was a mammal. *People* are to be kidnapped. *People*. Homo sapiens. Humans. To be precise, non-pets. And *especially* not dogs that bite me!" Peter just slammed the carphone down and fumed in the car for a while. Meanwhile, in the hotel room, 'D' licked Enmare's hand. "So, I'm not still asleep. Dang, I could really use the rest." She yawned. "Oh well. Come on boy, let's go get you a better haircut before the christening." =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 15:54:56 From: Jimmy Murphy Subject: WAR: Christening day arrives A day late and A Horton short (don't count on it), we present.... "Christening Day Arrives" by Jimmy Murphy 9AM, Christening day Anne's house, Seacouver Staying up so late was definitely a mistake for Dr. Anne Lindsey. She had become accustomed to sleeping at odd times and in small quantities, but thanks to the stress of planning a lightning-quick Christening and accompanying reception for a hundred...*two hundred*? guests, she was not in a great mood. Though she had needed as much sleep as she could get, she had also laid awake part of the night worrying about how everyone was going to get along. Duncan was on his way, as was Amanda and Richie and Drs. Coleman and Wallace from the ER; Jimmy had turned up just as Anne had begun to accept the fact that he had moved on with his life; and the idea that Duncan and the others were bringing extra guests sent her heart sinking. Most of Duncan's acquaintances had this peculiar habit of trying to wreck the place and to take people's heads off, while the mortals took their aggressions out by sending nasty e-mails about how better they liked Tessa. Anne gulped. "Mr. Kinard? Could you take up this rug before the guests arrive? Yes, the white one...thanks." No way was she going to be crying over spilled...blood? Pretty impractical rug anyway, what with Mary around. Not that Anne thought Duncan would engage in some full-force battle to the death right in the middle of her party....far from it. If anything, he would do whatever it took to make sure none of that stuff happened in her presence. He understood that she was not totally comfortable with the darker side of Immortality, and had always took great pains to shield her from it. Jimmy was off to the side, talking on a conference call to members of Joe's band. He kept his voice low because he did not want Anne to know that the band, one of Joe's "gifts", was also the unofficial security detail for the church and the reception. The assorted voices assured him that everything would be fine and that if necessary, they could strike up something so loud that any anguished screams would be drowned out. "Oh, gee, that just fills me with courage..." he quipped to the disembodied voices. Marie was outside, trying to find out when and where the stakes would be driven for the tent. Marie had volunteered with Habitat for Humanity in Los Angeles and had seen first hand how construction-types could trample a yard. She guarded the flower beds almost as much as she guarded Mary, who was in a playpen in the sunshine. "What wonderful weather," she said, looking to the sky. "It always used to rain here. I wonder how we got so lucky?" "Because the logistics of everyone inserting it into their posts would be a nightmare," Donna quipped as she walked out onto the deck. The caterers were setting up the tables and such in the kitchen, so Donna had to use the deck to eat her muffin...well, actually, it was Marie's muffin. "She won't care," Donna had thought. "Excuse me, I think you took my muffin!" Marie said casually, taking the remainder of it from Donna's suprised hands. "Speaking of muffins," Donna said, trying to recover her pride, "do you suppose that new guy of Anne's will escort her to the church?" Donna was fishing; since Anne had tried to avoid any conversations about Duncan with Donna, Marie might be able to offer some insight. "He's a wonderful guy..mysterious, but very charming," Marie offered. "He saved Anne's career once, did you know that? Someone doctored her charts to make her look like a murderer. It was Duncan's intervention that kept her from losing her license." "The more I hear about this guy, the more I am convinced that he and Anne need to get back together. Anne refuses to look me in the eye about the whole situation, and when I suggested she go into private practice with me in Albuquerque, you'd think I had asked her to move to the moon. She is still hung up on him...and just think of the gorgeous, smart kids they would have!" "Well, anything is better than the...the man who left her pregnant," Marie said, *wishing* to tell all, but holding back. Marie knew that Anne did not want her past transmitted to every guest at the party; the situation with having Jimmy, Duncan, and Anne in one church would be weird enough for Anne. Marie agreed with Donna's contention that Duncan was a great guy for Anne, but she did not think that pushing Anne into anything would be a good idea. She had seen Anne cry her eyes dry during that dark period when she thought Duncan was dead, but what had impacted more onto Marie's memory was the despondency that Anne had felt in the aftermath of her discovering that she was pregnant, and the breakup with Duncan in France. "That woman in there has the greatest kid in the world. Maybe that is enough for her right now." "Yeah, and maybe not," Donna thought. "I think Duncan MacLeod would be a much more welcome excuse to stay up all night than a colicky baby." Jimmy, having finished his call, had listened to the whole conversation from a few steps away. He could only close his eyes tightly and walk back into the house. Later, the same day (1:30 ish) "There's a phone call for you, Ms. Lindsey," Jessica said, offering the phone to the still-primping mother. It was Amanda. "Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid that you were tied up somewhere." "But enough about my personal life...where do I get to sit at this shindig?" Amanda purred, holding a phone to one ear and earring selections to the other. "Very funny. I told Reverend Douglass that I wanted you on the pew right behind me. A seat of honor." Amanda was not quite sure if Anne placed Amanda there out of friendship or just to make her behave. Upon hearing of the close proximity of her seating to that of Joe Dawson, Amanda seemed to pep up considerably. "And what about Duncan? Will he be next to you?" "Duncan will be there, yes, but 'next to me' is a relative term!" Jimmy had overheard the last part of their conversation and his heart fell further; for someone who was no longer a part of Anne's lfe, people sure did talk about him a lot. He kept pretending to be helping with the replacement of the door handle, but he could not help but notice how the prospect of Duncan's attendance seemed to excite Anne more than anything else that had been planned. Once Donna, Marie, Anne, Jimmy and Mary had arrived *in style* via Jimmy's Corniche, Anne was busying herself with Reverend Douglass. Marie was taking care of Mary in one of the ante-rooms, and Donna had curiously gone out to the curb to meet the UPS man. "What is she doing?" Marie thought when she looked out a window at Donna, "and how did the UPS man know that we were here? Probably some gift...." she said, resuming her playful feeding of strained peas to Mary. "Oh, heavens, not the Versace!" Marie was heard to wail soon after. Jimmy had walked outside the back way to see if the Arby's across the street was open. He knew that there would be tons of food at the reception, but for some reason there was this voice that was beckoning him to Arby's for a Chicken Cordon Bleu sandwich. He crossed the street and was about to enter the restaurant when he saw, reflected in the window, what appeared to be Horton (or at least one of them). He turned, looked at the nearby parking lot and saw nothing. While waiting in an interminably long line at Arby's, Jimmy remembered fondly the conversation he had had with Anne in the nursery that morning....before all the talk of Duncan MacLeod had managed to weigh down his enthusiasm. Without Marie's disapproving gaze, the two of them had had more of a chance to talk than the night before. Anne had seemed to be totally happy that Jimmy had arrived in time for the Christening; he had wondered from the very beginning if Anne would want him there at all since they had not even visited one another since his move to Georgia. Anne's endless capacity for forgiveness was yet another reason he loved her so. Still, forgiving him for past misdeeds and misunderstandings was a long way from offering him the place in her heart that he had always wanted. Outside the church, but out of Donna's view, Kenny was hiding behind a nearby stone wall. In his hands was a box from a mail-order company, and he snickered as he opened the lid marked ACME. "These guys are the BEST!" he said, removing a bubble-wrapped form about the size of a loaf of bread. He looked upwards at the church bell tower and focused on a ventilation panel. "Prepare for the worst, Anne!" he mumbled with a hint of malevolence. He tossed the box and the invoice aside and headed toward the fire escape-style ladder up the side of the back of the church. "This wasn't here a minute ago..." he thought quizzically, but proceeded upwards anyway. Anne chatted with Reverend Douglass, explaining how she expected a lot of her friends to arrive a little late. Reverend Douglass replied that it was a testament to her character that so many people wanted to come to such a last-minute affair. "Yes, people were not warm to me at first," Anne replied, "but I think that the tide has turned a lot. I think it's the hair, if you ask me..." she quipped. When Reverend Douglass saw the updated guest list, she seemed a bit suprised. "Don't worry," Anne said, "I know the guest list has swelled unexpectedly, but they're all very nice people. I'm sure everything will go according to plan." Donna emerged from the bathroom. Above her, Kenny was worming his way through the crawl-space, carrying his "gift" for the Christening: a stink bomb he intends to place in the air conditioning. Kenny accidentally drops a piece of the bomb's wrapping through a vent, and Donna sees the piece of plastic flutter to the ground. "Ooh, bubble wrap!" she squeals, hurriedly popping the small air pockets as she walks into the church's main area. Ignorance is indeed bliss.