As soon as he felt the buzz of the unknown immortal, Michael reached for his sword. Knowing they were in a public place, he didn't remove it from his coat, just kept it within reach. The irony of instinctively protecting himself directly on the heels of mulling over his lack of desire to face his future did not escape Michael, but he shoved that thought ruthlessly aside and faced the unknown. Surprised at the identity of the immortal who cautiously came into view, Michael's blank stare nevertheless remained in place.
"Well, I'll be damned." Davenport exclaimed in what was unmistakably genuine surprise. "What are you still doing here?"
"Visiting a friend." Michael replied cryptically, relaxing his guard a little. "You?" Michael asked, interested as to why the other immortal wasn't far away from his former life.
"Waiting for my papers. Since Chris Davenport is dead, I can't use any of my old Section contacts, so it's taking longer than it should." Davenport sighed. "You're out though, right?" Davenport asked, suddenly looking around for Section operatives.
"Yes." Michael eased the other man's fears. "I'm out."
"You, as in singular?" Davenport asked, wondering what had happened to Nikita.
"Yes." Michael did not elaborate.
"Oh." Davenport returned, confused but not asking anything further, experience dictating he wouldn't get an answer anyway. "Hey, wanna grab a beer?" Davenport asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Why not?" Michael returned, surprising both of them.
With that, Michael left the books by the chair, grabbed his coat and the two men walked out of the store and to the nondescript bar and grill across the street.
********
"So, where are you going from here?" Davenport predictably broke the silence once their beers arrived at their table, nestled in the back, with a view of all the entrances and exits, of course.
"Don't know yet." Michael replied truthfully.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Davenport commented. "For the first time in six years almost every waking hour isn't scripted by 'Big Brother.'"
"No plans, either?"
"Nope." Davenport took a swallow of his beer. "I have some money siphoned away, untraceable, of course. Getting me a one way ticket to the States and a brand new start."
"The farther away the better?"
"Exactly." Davenport paused. "You know, I ended up at that bookstore thanks to your training."
"How?" Michael asked, his Section persona still dictating his wording.
"Hide in plain sight, where you're least expected to show." Davenport answered, used to Michael's 'verboseness.' "Never had a reason to visit this part of town when I was 'alive,' so, now that I'm dead…"
"Not even a disguise." Michael supplied, nursing his beer.
"Well, I've grown attached to the facial hair, so…" Davenport grinned. "Maybe if you get a haircut, I'll think about shaving."
"Ten days out of Section has done your sense of humor wonders."
"Yours too, apparently." Davenport took another swig and got serious. "Listen, man. I'm glad we ran into each other."
"Why?"
"With everything happening so fast in Section, I didn't have a chance to say thank you."
"For what?" Michael asked puzzled, as the older immortal had already expressed thanks for his escape.
"Well, without sounding too corny, for being a good role model." Davenport answered, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't dislike Section in the beginning. You know, when we were still chasing the bad guys instead of each other."
"Go on." Michael prodded, curious as to where this was going.
"Like I told you before, I lost respect for the place after all the in-house crap started and nothing was done about it by higher ups." Davenport paused. "But I meant what I said a year and a half ago. I really did learn a lot from you, even after I started getting really disgusted at what was going on."
"Thank you." Michael replied sincerely, deciding against informing the other immortal of the events that followed their 'escape.' He had also decided against violating Mac and Joe's trust by informing Davenport of the truth behind watchers, at least for now.
"I don't know what's happened with you since we left or what your plans are, but if you ever need anything, look me up." Davenport offered sincerely, knowing Michael would understand that his offer of assistance was given in light of the fact that Davenport had no way to know how prepared or ill-prepared Michael was to immortality, considering he had just died his first death a few months ago.
"I'm fine." Michael answered Davenport's unspoken question. "But I appreciate the offer."
********
Fifteen minutes later the two immortals went their separate ways. They'd had a few minutes of polite conversation followed by one more failed attempt by Davenport to find out what happened to the third member of the 'escape party.' After that Davenport had informed Michael where he would be in case Michael decided to look him up and the conversation had come to a close.
Noting the time, Michael decided to head back to Mac's barge and find out once and for all what his former teacher had up his sleeve. On his way back, snatches of his conversation with Davenport replayed in his mind and Michael found himself feeling slightly better about his future.
Arriving at the barge, Michael felt the presence of not one, but two immortals. Coming cautiously inside, he wasn't prepared at the sight of the second immortal who greeted him.
"Sir." Michael recovered from his shock quickly and greeted the elder immortal sitting on the couch next to Duncan, recognizing him as Jones' boss, even though he wasn't supposed to. "Mac?" He turned to his former teacher, afraid he'd been on the receiving end of yet another manipulation, this time by his last remaining 'friend.'
"Well, I won't ask how it is that you recognize me." Methos answered instead. His identity in the Agency was supposed to be an even more closely guarded secret than his age. Somehow, though, he wasn't surprised that Michael recognized him. "But don't worry, this isn't what you think."
"I don't think anything, sir." Michael returned, the good Section operative reappearing.
"First off, I hate being called sir, it just reminds me of my age."
"What should I call you?" Michael asked deferentially.
"Whatever you know me by." Methos answered.
"M?" Michael returned.
"Pierce is fine." The oldest living immortal used a variation of the name he used when he was a watcher, inwardly grimacing at his lack of foresight at not choosing an alias for his Agency persona. But then again, he hadn't planned on staying on as long as he had or letting anyone he knew was immortal get close enough to feel his immortality. "Let's start with the most pressing matter. No one is going to take you back to Section." That much was true.
"So, why are you here?" Michael asked, his recent more agreeable mood completely gone. "To remind me of my failings and that I should be grateful that I'm still alive?"
"No." Mac finally stepped in. "Look Michael, I know this looks bad, but hear him out, you might be surprised."
"Pleasantly?" Michael asked dubiously.
"Yes." Mac answered with conviction.
"Fine." Michael replied, resigned and sat down on the chair on the other side of the coffee table, his posture conveying his mental state. The fact that Michael looked ready for a dressing down or interrogation rather than a conversation did not escape either of the two older immortals.
"This is rather awkward." Methos began with the obvious. "Besides the fact that I'm supposed to be invisible, I'm also unused to explaining my actions, let alone apologizing for them."
"Apologizing?" Michael echoed, this time unable to hide his surprise.
"Ah, we both owe you an apology, actually." Duncan interjected.
"I don't understand." Michael returned candidly.
"Duncan's finding you in that rubble *was* an accident." Methos was the one to explain as per agreement with Duncan. "And he did not know I was involved with the Agency at the time."
"I see." Michael processed the information.
"I was also under the mistaken impression that you wanted out of the organization." Duncan broke in.
"I thought so, too." Michael admitted. "But then I realized what I really wanted was to help it move forward." Michael finished diplomatically.
"Yes well, that's readily apparent now." Methos picked up again. "But as Duncan said, that was not the impression or reason given for your return to Section after your, uh, training."
"Does it matter?" Michael finally asked, not understanding what difference it could possibly make now as his actions upon his return had been evaluated and found lacking.
"Yes, it does." Duncan threw in. "Once you left, I pleaded your case with…Pierce." Duncan and Methos both winced inwardly at the pause and near slip, hoping Michael didn't catch it.
"How?" Michael asked, indeed noticing the hesitation, but not commenting only filing it away for later.
"He asked that you be 'released' from Section and I eventually agreed." Methos answered vaguely, not mentioning the numerous 'discussions' he and Duncan had had on the subject before Methos had finally relented.
"Alone?" Michael asked, then seeing the confusion on the other two immortals' faces, elaborated. "I alone was to be released?"
"Ah, yes. This is where it gets complicated." Methos was relieved to get to the heart of the matter. "Duncan had asked for a 'get out of jail free card' for two."
"You said no." Michael surmised.
"Not exactly." Methos countered. "I still needed Nikita in Section and Center a bit longer. My mistake was in not specifying a scenario. My orders were that you were to be canceled. I was going to release Nikita from her duties and the organization, shortly thereafter, as soon as her job was complete. A nice, clean exit strategy for two."
"What happened?" Michael asked.
"Jones' boss, my second, took it upon himself to use this opportunity to further an agenda and created the profile that was carried out." Methos explained. "Unfortunately, by the time I found out, the profile was in play and it was too late to stop it without causing irreparable damage to the chain of command throughout the organization."
"Who was under orders to do what?" Michael needed to know.
"What you really want to know is what Nikita's orders were, yes?" Methos didn't even need to guess.
"Yes." Michael admitted, not caring what it revealed as Duncan, and 'Pierce' undoubtedly as well, already knew his feelings.
"She was told to order your cancelation and see that it was carried out." Methos confirmed. "The truth of the matter is that even the man who ordered it didn't think Nikita would be able to carry out the order."
"Then why order it?"
"He didn't think you should have died, either." Methos answered.
"I see." Michael said, not even concerned at the identity of his superiors' immediate subordinate right now, still trying to come to terms with all that had just been revealed to him. "So, what now?"
"Actually." Methos smiled, "A job offer."
"For me?" Michael asked, taken aback and showing it, albeit briefly.
"Yes." Methos confirmed then looked pointedly at Duncan to make sure the Highlander heard the next part as he had insisted on it in the first place, before turning back to Michael. "Strictly voluntary."
"Voluntary?" Michael echoed skeptically.
"Yep." Methos replied. "No repercussions if you say no."
"Where?" Michael asked, wanting to know before asking his next question.
"Center."
"In what capacity?" Michael asked, this time hiding his surprise better. He had thought perhaps Oversight, but what position needed to be filled in Center?
"Running it." Methos replied, enjoying the stunned look on the young immortal's face. "Under my supervision, obviously." Methos elaborated. "The better you are, the less supervision, of course."
"Why?" Michael recovered his shock and asked.
"You're ready for it and it's time. Past time, actually." Methos replied. "If not for your friend's interference, you would have been approached earlier."
"When?" Michael asked curiously.
"To make a long story short, Section playing patsy with the Director of Red Cell was the final test for many." Methos summarized. "All you need to know right now is that *you* passed. But by then, Duncan's insistent whining put a damper on my plans."
"Alright, already. I ruined your plans. At least it wasn't your life." Duncan finally jumped in.
"It's alright, Mac." Michael interrupted, knowing where Duncan was going. "I understand." He accepted his former teacher's unspoken apology then turned back to 'Pierce.' Coming back in wasn't an issue, as 'Pierce' had implied, most people in the know probably didn't believe he was dead anyway. By the tone of the conversation, Michael guessed that his 'personal' issues would be up to him to resolve and 'Pierce' would not interfere. But still…
"Can I think about it?" Michael asked, testing the waters.
"Yes." Methos replied, without hesitation, expecting as much. "How long?" He couldn't leave the position and accompanying issues open indefinitely.
"Until the morning." Michael replied, even though he had already more or less made his decision.
"That's not unreasonable." Methos replied. "And since this barge has turned into Grand Central Station, we'll just meet back here at nine am. Agreed?" Methos finalized, not even bothering to ask for 'permission' to use Duncan's home again.
********
Michael left the barge promising to be back by the appointed time. After he left Mac and Methos briefly discussed the conversation and agreed that, all things considered, it had gone rather well. Due to the vacancies in the organization, Methos had to leave shortly thereafter and attend to Agency matters. On his way out, he couldn't resist firing a parting shot at his favorite boy scout about the folly of mixing business with friendships.
********
Michael didn't need the few hours to make his decision. He *wanted* this. The only unresolved issue that mattered to him was his relationship with Nikita. But the fact that despite her orders, Nikita let him go, gave Michael hope for that situation as well.
No, he didn't need to think about the offer. What Michael *did* need was time to uncover the truth. He believed in the sincerity of his ex (and most likely soon to be again) boss. That wasn't the issue. But, Michael had not survived the Section for as long as he did and get to where he was without gathering all available (and sometimes not so available) intel and covering all the bases. Something didn't sit right with him about 'Pierce' and before he agreed to work for the man, Michael was going to find out *exactly* who it is he'd be working for.
********
Making sure he wasn't followed, Michael headed for his destination. He figured 'Pierce' and Mac would be busy for a while, but he wasn't taking any chances and took the quickest route. Picking up some confiscated Section (and non-Section) gear, Michael hurriedly headed for the other side of town.
Quelling any pangs of guilt for violating a trust, Michael stealthily entered the premises. Reasoning that if he was being spied on, regardless of altruistic or other reasons, he had a right to 'spy' back eased his conscience. Besides, he wouldn't do anything with the information other than confirm his suspicions.
Booting up the computer he'd glimpsed on occasional visits with Mac to Joe's bar, Michael proceeded to look for files he knew would probably not be there. Needing confirmation though, he checked the entire system. If you watched hundreds and hundreds of people over the years, information had to be kept somewhere. With the computer age in full swing journals would be obsolete.
Applying skills and 'toys' that even the late Seymour Birkoff would have been impressed with, Michael quickly realized he had been correct and shut down the computer and proceeded to pull out a few more toys from his small black duffel bag. Pulling out a special scanner, Michael searched the premises and found half a dozen mini-discs spread throughout the office.
Taking care to remember exactly where each disc had been hidden, Michael pulled out yet another gadget from his bag, applied a few more hacking skills, circumvented the discs' 'security' system, decrypted the discs and finally copied them onto blank discs of his own.
Knowing he had already been there too long and the possibility of detection grew exponentially with every moment, Michael worked as quickly and efficiently as always and walked out with no-one the wiser.
Checking into a cheap, nondescript motel, Michael booted up his laptop and began searching his copied discs one by one. Seeing the words Watchers' Chronicles appear on his screen, Michael smiled in satisfaction.
'Pierce' was an immortal so there should have been a file on him in these chronicles. Finding a picture of 'Adam Pierson,' former watcher, on the third disc he tried, Michael proceeded to read the file.
Adam Pierson had been a watcher assigned to researching 'Methos,' a myth to most, but supposedly the oldest living immortal. It had been Pierson's job, with the aid of Methos' own journals, to track down the 'myth.' Pierson had left his job voluntarily a short time ago amidst speculation that he had 'become' immortal himself in the course of his duties.
Putting the pieces together, Michael realized *exactly* who 'Pierce' or 'Mr. M' was. The man who he knew as the Agency's true boss had a very strong 'presence.' He certainly had to be much older than Mac. Using the name 'Adam,' first man, was an arrogant giveaway. 'Mr. M?' Just as dead a giveaway. Michael made a mental note to one day, if and when they ever became friends or if any of the three 'conspirators' noticeably slipped up, call his boss on it.
Knowing now who he would be working for, Michael made his final decision. Being a history buff already, his interest in history only partially connected to the fact that it was a good learning tool, Michael looked forward to that day, and the stories he was sure Methos had to tell.
As thorough as Michael was, he went through all the discs and was surprised to discover one that looked different from the others and was devoted completely to the story of Methos. Remembering that this disc was the best hidden of them all, Michael wondered at how 'official' this particular disc was, and whether or not anyone besides Joe (and himself now) knew about it. Filing yet more intel away for the future, Michael copied an extra set of discs and 'forwarded' them to a secondary location on the way back to the barge. The original copies he put away in his primary 'hiding spot' near Paris.
Michael had chosen the spot due to its relative proximity to Section, reasoning that if he'd have need of those 'resources,' he'd probably be close to Section when he required them. His reasoning had proven sound on several occasions, not the least of which a year ago, when he went rogue to neutralize the Gelman process used on Nikita.
********
"So, have you come to a decision?" Methos asked without preamble once the three men had settled into the same seats as the previous night.
"Yes." Michael replied.
"And?" Duncan asked impatiently.
"I have a couple of questions." Michael replied.
"Of course you do." Methos expected as much. "Go ahead."
"Who would I answer to?" Michael wanted unequivocal confirmation before continuing.
"Me."
"Who would make the high-level personnel decisions?" Michael asked his next question.
"You would. Final approval up to me, at least initially." Methos answered frankly.
"This is my personnel roster." Michael returned, pulling out a small pda and passing it over to Methos, 'testing' the other man.
"Why I am not surprised?" Methos fairly smirked, taking the proffered pda, amused and pleased at Michael's boldness and readiness. "Confident aren't you?"
"Yes." Michael admitted bluntly.
"Oh, I can see this is going to be fun." Duncan grinned, unable to resist.
"I'm glad you think so." Methos retorted, looking up from the pda. "Because you're on the list."
"What?" Duncan asked stunned and angry.
"It's contingent on your agreement, of course." Methos showed Duncan the pda, his name marked off as questionable pending acceptance.
"I just thought you might want to help." Michael explained.
"He's got a good point, you know." Methos joined in. "Instead of whining about the injustices…"
"Put up or shut up. Is that what you're saying?" Duncan interrupted testily.
"No." Michael interjected. "Obviously Pierce came to the same conclusions as you did about Section and the Agency in general. Otherwise why restructure?" Michael turned to Methos for confirmation.
"Exactly." Methos added. "Whether or not Michael had agreed to come back, there was still a need for change. It may have taken me a while and I may have needed more prodding than I should have, but I *do* understand that."
"No." Duncan stated adamantly.
"Why?" Michael asked at the same time Methos asked "Why not?"
"Let me count the reasons." Duncan returned sarcastically. "First of all, I don't even know enough about the organization to be the lowest level operative."
"You're a quick learner and I'm a good teacher." Methos argued. "I'm sure Michael is, too."
"I wouldn't tolerate slow going. I'd tick you both off very quickly demanding more than you were ready for."
"I'm sure suitable middle ground would be found to mutually benefit both sides." Michael fielded this one.
"I'm an outsider." Duncan persisted.
"Perfect." Methos countered. "Both Michael and I have been in too long. Too much of what's wrong has already become habit."
"Exactly." Michael added. "You'd see the forest from the trees."
"And just how long did you envision this joint venture to last?"
"As long as you were willing." Michael responded to that one, seeing that he had been the one to put the Highlander on his list in the first place. While this isn't the way the conversation was supposed to go, the tag team effort seemed to be wearing him down.
"What exactly did you see me doing?" Duncan asked Michael, still not convinced but curiosity getting the better of him.
Before Michael could answer the question there was a knock on the door. When Duncan went to answer it he found Joe Dawson standing on the other side with bad news.
"Uh, Pierce." Joe greeted, the news he was bringing distracting him and almost making him slip. "Michael."
"What's wrong?" Duncan asked impatiently, not liking his friend's hesitation.
"When was the last time you heard from Amanda?" Joe asked, sitting down on the empty chair near Michael.
"Six months ago. She sent me a message. I didn't reply." Duncan thought back, a sudden thought occurring. "Why? Is she…?
"No." Joe quickly assured knowing what his friend must have been thinking. "She's alive."
"So, what then?"
"How well do you keep track of recruitment?" Joe turned to Methos rather than answering Duncan's question.
"Not well." Methos replied, puzzled by the turn of the conversation. "There's too many to keep track of. Why?"
"Amanda was involved in a museum heist a few months ago." Joe sighed. "A guard was killed, beheaded actually. Amanda was caught at the scene. She was convicted of murder but 'committed suicide' before sentencing. We thought that, as usual, she did it on her own and was now laying low."
"Uh-oh." Methos muttered, realizing where this was headed.
"Yeah. Uh-oh." Joe confirmed. "The watcher I had in Section One was still there. He saw Amanda yesterday."
The reactions Joe got from his news were varied. Michael was simply curious. Even though he had a copy of Joe's chronicles in his possession he hadn't looked up Mac's 'file.' He'd only looked at what was necessary and invading his former teacher's privacy hadn't even been considered. So, all he knew about Amanda he'd gleaned from Duncan. And all the older immortal had ever really said about her was that she was an *old* girlfriend who tended to get him into all kinds of trouble every time they crossed paths.
Methos knew much more about Amanda and, of course, her relationship with the Highlander. He was actually amused and had to restrain himself from laughing at the irony. Actually, considering her many varied 'enterprises,' he was surprised Amanda had still been running around loose (well until now, anyway). Methos' mind was already working, the wheels turning. If Amanda could be convinced to 'hang around' a bit, then perhaps that was what would finally reel Duncan in.
Duncan of course, was alarmed to say the least. Knowing Amanda as he did, he almost didn't know who to worry about more, Amanda or Section One. Amanda, a covert operative? There was nothing covert about the 1200 year old woman. All his panicked mind could comprehend at this point was that he had to get her out of there before she caused irreparable damage.
********
SECTION ONE: THREE WEEKS AGO
Amanda woke up to find herself restrained on a bed in a sterile white room, empty save for the bed she was on and a metal chair to the side of the bed. She recalled being led to solitary confinement for a rules infraction she didn't commit then a stinging sensation in her arm at which point she lashed out at the masked figures suddenly surrounding her in the dimly lit corridor. The last thing she remembered was being shot at several times and a voice saying, "She's still not out? There's enough tranqs in her to kill an elephant."
Concluding that she was no longer in prison, but undoubtedly under surveillance, Amanda sighed and laid back down to await her 'fate.' Fortunately, the wait was short and several minutes later the metal door on the opposite side of the room opened and in stepped a man in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
"You shouldn't be awake." He commented, walking over and carefully unlocking the wrist restraints, watching for any sudden movements from the woman on the bed.
"Well, I am." Amanda retorted, even though she knew it had been a statement, not a question requiring a response. "Where the hell am I?" She asked, sitting up carefully.
"Hell. Interesting use of words, fitting too, I can assure you." O'Brien returned, the new recruit rubbing him raw already. "Welcome to Section One. We are the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world." O'Brien continued his speech, briefly flashing back to his own introduction into Section One. "The world thinks you're dead, another sad prison suicide." There was no picture of a funeral to pull out, the 'body' cremated as per that particular prison's policy.
"Well, that's a start." Amanda muttered, referring to the fact that they did her a favor by 'getting rid' of the infamous Amanda Montrose. The identity was becoming too well known anyway.
"This isn't a discussion, it's a speech." O'Brien returned. "Now shut up and listen." He continued after Amanda quieted. "This is where you will train, where you will learn. If at the end of two years you're still alive you will work for us." He finished.
"Still alive?" Amanda asked, suppressing the urge to smile.
"If you don't learn, you'll be canceled." O'Brien went on to elaborate. "Canceled, dead, terminated, get the picture?"
"You can't be serious." Amanda complained. "Why me? And why now?"
"You have a very long and colorful past. Highly skilled international cat burglar. *Several* law enforcement agencies were very happy to see you caught. We were just waiting for you to cross the line into murder." O'Brien answered.
"I'll have to be less accommodating in the future."
"Training starts tomorrow. Five AM." O'Brien ignored her comment and gave Amanda her new wake up time for the next two years on his way out, surprised at the new recruit's seeming calm.
'I wonder how long it'll take me to convince them to cancel me?' Amanda wondered after O'Brien left.
********
SECTION ONE: THIS MORNING
"O'Brien feels Amanda should be cancelled now rather than wasting resources." Nikita brought up the next recruit up for discussion this morning.
"What's your opinion?" Operations asked his new second in command.
"I disagree." Nikita answered, even though she knew her opinion would not carry much weight with her superior.
"I'm not surprised." Operations returned.
"Three weeks is too soon to give up." Nikita persisted, trying to win another of the seemingly endless battles she'd had with Operations ever since her designation as his second in command yesterday morning. Jones had promised this would temporary, she'd have to stay in Section just long enough to make sure things were back on course and a permanent replacement for Madeline was found. The way things were going, this was going to be a very long stay. "She has excellent skills and a good background for this, she just needs to learn discipline."
"Like you did?" Operations retorted, inwardly reveling at Nikita's visible grimace.
"Our situations are hardly similar." Nikita defended.
"Of course. You were an innocent. Spare me the speech." Operations sighed, then returned to the matter at hand. "I'll speak to her."
"What?" Nikita asked, more than a little surprised at Operations' unprecedented offer.
"You said yourself I lacked compassion or at least the good judgment that comes with a small dose of it." Operations reminded Nikita. "Maybe now's a good a time as any to start 'growing' some."
"Fine." Nikita said, wondering what the hell that man had up his sleeve now.
********
"Good morning." Operations greeted as he walked unannounced into Amanda's room, finding her in bed reading a novel. He immediately attached a scrambler to the wall to make absolutely sure they weren't going to be seen or heard.
"I wouldn't know." Amanda retorted. "I'll take your word for it. Come to think of it, I'll have to take your word for it that it's morning at all."
"Are you always so…?"
"Verbose?" Amanda supplied diplomatically.
"Yes."
"Actually, usually more so." Amanda shrugged. "You caught me on a bad day."
"Thank god for that."
"What's with the chit-chat?" Amanda asked. "I don't suppose you're here to cancel me. That's not something top management would do."
"You know who I am?" Operations asked.
"Of course. Operations, the BMOC."
"Interesting term." Operations commented. "I hear that you're trying your best to get yourself cancelled."
"So? You've got hundreds of worker ants scurrying around, what's one more or less to you?
"But you're not an ordinary worker ant." Operations countered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Amanda asked apprehensively.
"I've seen your file. You've developed quite an impressive resume."
"A lot of good it'll do me in the real world, especially now that I'm supposed to be dead."
"Speaking of which." Operations paused, moving in for the kill. "That was an usual way to kill someone, beheading."
"Yes, well we *were* in a museum, the sword was the closest weapon around." Amanda defended, starting to worry about the direction of the conversation.
"You know, I always believed in an eye for an eye." Operations mused. "So, since you seem to be so hell-bent on getting yourself cancelled, I suppose I can accommodate you."
"How?" Amanda asked, already suspecting the answer.
"An eye for an eye." Operations repeated. "Decapitation."
********
"That's so ugly and messy." Amanda returned. "Why the extra cleanup? A bullet would be just as effective and a lot neater."
"But a bullet would not do any permanent damage, would it?" Operations persisted.
"Of course it would." Amanda tried.
"Really?" Operations asked dubiously. "Why don't we test that theory out, then?" He continued, pulling out a gun from a shoulder holster underneath his jacket. "Now, can we stop with the games and admit the truth or do I need to shoot you?"
"Why me?" Amanda asked, stubborn to a fault, still unwilling to admit her immortality.
"Contrary to what you may believe, I don't approve or disapprove every potential recruit." Operations clarified the circumstances that brought Amanda into Section One. "I saw you a few days ago and you looked familiar. After I checked your file, things fell into place."
"Where did you recognize me from?" Amanda asked suspiciously.
"I have certain resources and contacts that most mortals don't."
"And your contact allows you access to certain 'chronicles?'" Amanda asked realizing his contact had to be a watcher, suddenly unsure as to the harmlessness of the chronicles.
"No." Operations denied then elaborated, knowing what the immortal must have been thinking. "I *do* have a life outside the Section. Some of that 'life' entails old friendships that I wouldn't even allow Section to break."
"I suppose some of these friends sport little, round tattoos on their left wrists." Amanda put the pieces together.
"Yes." Operations confirmed, putting his gun away. "I'm one of very few outside the organization who knows about it and the people that they keep tabs on." Operations concluded vaguely, leaving the story of how he became involved with the watchers (and one watcher in particular) for later, after Amanda's decision had been made, one way or another.
"I see."
"No, you don't." Operations countered. "Your being here was purely accidental. I'm not even sure that the watchers know you're here yet. I recognized you because of your friendship with certain others of your kind, that's all." Operations stressed, imparting on Amanda that there was no conspiracy, only coincidence.
"Alright." Amanda replied. "Assuming for a minute that I believe you, what do you want from me?"
"Your voluntary cooperation." Operations replied.
"Threatening me with decapitation is not your best bet for ensuring my voluntary cooperation. Try something else."
"Mutual benefits." Operations smiled in response to the challenge.
"Mutual benefits?" Amanda echoed, curious as to what the man could possibly offer her to make her *want* to stay in this depressive and oppressive underground tomb. "You've got my attention."
********
Operations had begun to see things differently recently. The 'change' had been gradual and there was still far to go, but it was there nonetheless. Contrary to what some in the organization deluded themselves into thinking, it wasn't Madeline's death or Nikita's true mission that had been the catalyst.
As much as he now regretted his actions at the time, it wasn't Michael's death that had been responsible for Operations' turnaround either. He'd forced himself to pass it off as another loss among many. He refused to admit that this particular loss affected him any more than the countless others. It hadn't even been Michael's return three months later that effectively shattered his delusions and left Operations open for self-examination.
Truth be told, when he sent Michael in alone and dark to rescue Nikita, in the back of Operations' mind was a nagging suspicion that the recently returned-from-the-dead level five operative would use this opportunity for escape, for both himself and Nikita. Madeline's suggestion of that possibility was merely a reinforcement of his concerns.
Comforted by the fact that Michael had returned to the Section at all rather than use his own considerable resources (the same resources he had used so effectively in the last year or so) to rescue his former material, Operations figured Michael would come back again.
When Michael and Nikita *did* return, Operations refused to acknowledge the little bit of surprise and relief he'd felt at their return. He'd shrugged it off as expected of an operative of that caliber and level and things returned to 'normal.' Self-examination didn't start for Operations in earnest until a few weeks later, after their joint venture with Red Cell.
Operations had used the unexpected mission to test two key people – Madeline and Michael – for two very different reasons. The result of that test was what had started Operations down his road of self-review.
Nagging doubts about Michael's loyalty and Madeline's self-sufficiency propelled Operations to plan the mission against Red Cell the way he did.
Operations realized that he and Madeline were no longer the optimal pair they had once been long before Nikita and Mr. Jones' evaluations. Two decades of working together side by side was not an easy thing to let go of. But, denial was a luxury Operations and Section could no longer afford. To that end, he knew that it was time for them to part company, regardless of whether or not he would be moved to Oversight.
However, Operations was not about to throw Madeline to the wolves until he was sure she would make it on her own, swim instead of sink. By abandoning Madeline to her own devices against Red Cell, Operations knew he was risking her life, but he had no choice. If she couldn't get out of that situation on her own, then she would never be able to swim on her own. He hoped she survived, and was relieved by the confirmation of her skills and survival instinct. Madeline would do fine on her own in Section One or anywhere else.
As for Michael, Operations knew the level five operative would flourish no matter where he was, his competence hadn't been an issue in a long, long time. But his loyalty was another matter, never fully laid to rest despite the many tests he had already gone through. This time, the problem was Adam.
Michael's confirmed immortality was proof of his incapability of being Adam's father and Michael surely knew that by now. The question now was did this 'revelation' shift Michael's loyalty away from Section and was Michael just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to retaliate against those who he thought were responsible for that charade and all the pain that had come with it.
When Michael proved his loyalty again by siding with Section instead of trying to help Red Cell destroy it, Operations was pleased. Of course, he had had contingencies in place just in case Michael had failed the test, but Operations was relieved it hadn't come down to that.
After Madeline returned from that mission and things settled back into routine is when Operations' self-examination began. Ironically, it was Michael's somewhat unexpected continuing loyalty to Section and its leader that set Operations on his current path.
Beginning with this most recent 'betrayal,' Operations thought back over everything that had been done to Michael over the years. Considering what he and Madeline had put the younger man through, he couldn't fathom why Michael was still here and he and Madeline were still alive. Operations wasn't so sure that if he were in Michael's shoes he would be so 'forgiving.' Sure he had been tested in his days, was still being tested even now, but not like this. When did he and Madeline become this ruthless and paranoid about protecting their power rather than protecting the innocent?
Yes, it was time for a change. Operations needed a new second in command, someone as brilliant as Madeline, but not as ruthless. Too many years and it had become habit for him, Operations needed someone to temper his own now almost ingrained ruthlessness because he wasn't sure anymore if his means justified the end. Of course, by the time Operations finally came to his decision and resolved to implement a change it was too late. Center's scenario and endgame came to light, destroying any chance he had to change Section on his own terms.
Center had dictated that Operations remain in Section One for the next seven years and 'gave' him a new second in command/chief tactician/psychologist and chief field operative/team leader, neither one of which inspired his confidence or trust. However, Operations vowed that he'd cultivate loyal operatives again, show that he still 'had it' and make it to Oversight in a hell of a lot less time than was allotted.
One thing Operations had seen in the short time that Center's new personnel configuration had been in effect was that without two of its key players, Section was on a downward spiral. Operations smiled bitterly to himself, remembering his conversation with Jones an hour ago. Section's latest mission had been profiled by Nikita (who also ran tactical oversight) and led by O'Brien with Quinn running sims beforehand and overseeing comm.
Sure, closure had been achieved. But, losses should have been lower, would have been if… No one could change the profile or tactical so seamlessly in mid-mission the way Michael could, not even Madeline.
Jones had told him to be patient, an adjustment period had to be expected. In the meantime, resources were already depleted, how much longer before sustaining critical mass of personnel became an issue. Perhaps the new players would adjust, but they would never measure up to the old ones.
So, Operations decided to get some pinch hitters of his own and make sure they became everyday players.
********
"Mutual benefits?" Amanda echoed, curious as to what the man could possibly offer her to make her *want* to stay in this depressive and oppressive underground tomb. "You've got my attention."
"*My* benefits are obvious." Operations began. "You're new. While you may have heard rumors and stories, you haven't been here long enough to form a fixed opinion one way or another."
"So your and your second in command's lack of popularity doesn't surprise you?"
"No." Operations smiled. "And, yes, most of what you've heard is probably true."
"Really? Interesting." Amanda commented dryly. " But, when do we get to the part that's supposed to make me interested in sticking around?"
"If you'd let me continue…"
"Sorry." Amanda quipped, not sounding sorry at all. "Long standing habit."
"As I was saying." Operations continued patiently, something that was still very alien to him and required considerable willpower. "Your lack of allegiance to anyone leaves me with a fair chance of convincing you, through actions as well as words, that your loyalties should lie with me and that I really do want Section back to the way it should be." Operations paused, getting to the heart of the matter, vagueness no longer a viable option. "The reason I chose to deal with *you* is that even though I'm not a watcher, I *have* heard a lot about you."
"What exactly have you heard?" Amanda's curiosity got the better of her.
"You're successful at what you do, have access to significant technology." Operations opened diplomatically, then smiled, slightly but genuinely. "Could teach most of the operatives a thing or two about breaking and entering without leaving 'fingerprints.' You also improvise quite well and can talk almost anyone into almost anything. You would need 'far' less than two years to complete training."
"But?" Amanda knew there was one coming.
"You'd need to work on the 'nuances' of Section Life and how to be part of a team."
"So you've sized me up already." Amanda returned, getting to what was *really* important to her. "But, you still haven't explained what's in it for me."
"Atonement." Operation stated simply.
"For what?" Amanda asked, shocked. " I have *nothing* to atone for. At least nothing that's mortal business." She amended.
"I'm not saying you *owe* me or the world at large, I just thought events in your life, especially in the last few years would have given you a guilty conscience. Section One, as I see it in the future, would be a good place to balance a guilty conscience."
"My conscience is clear." Amanda stated firmly.
"Really?" Operations asked, then began his attack. "Killing a museum security guard was what got you into Section in the first place."
"He challenged me." Amanda interrupted indignantly. "What was I supposed to do? Let him take my head?"
"Immortal or not, he was just doing his job."
"A night watchman in a museum! Who would have thought an immortal would hold that kind of job?" Amanda persisted, trying to keep the guilt at bay.
"Whatever the reason, it doesn't alter the facts." Operations continued. "Plus, looking at just the Interpol file on you, in the last year you've gotten a good cop, who ironically stepped in front of a bullet to save your life, killed. Got another good cop kicked off the force…"
"Nick was not kicked off." Amanda interjected lamely.
"Sorry." Operations returned, not sounding sorry at all. "He resigned because of the cover-up *your* actions necessitated."
"Nick was fine with being a private detective, he didn't need the badge." Amanda defended.
"Maybe if you keep telling yourself that long enough, you'll start to believe it." Operations countered. "Besides, that was just the beginning. You involved him in your immortal 'games' and set Interpol on his trail, too."
"I was only trying to protect him." Amanda countered tightly, remembering how badly things had ended and how her Scottish best friend/sometime lover was nowhere to be found at the time to help her through it.
"Exactly." Operations triumphed. "Think of all the people you can protect via Section. Make up for some of those lives you've ruined over the years, intentionally or inadvertently."
"That's not fair." Amanda retorted. "That's hitting below the belt."
"Not really. I could only score a hit if you'd already had misgivings about your actions in the first place." Operations countered. "If you don't like it, we could always have you killed on a mission and you can go on right where you left off."
********
SECTION ONE: PRESENT
After their conversation, Operations had given Amanda the day 'off' to contemplate her options. He didn't exactly give Amanda a deadline, but Operations asked if she could have an answer for him by day's end.
By eight o'clock that evening Amanda had come to a decision. She asked to speak to Operations, and fifteen minutes later she was summoned to the Perch. They were just about finished discussing the matter (in private and surveillance free, of course) when Operations and Nikita were called away to Center.
Amanda went over the details of their agreement over a short solo workout in the gym, oblivious to the admiring glances cast her way. Satisfied with her decision, Amanda returned to her room and waited to see if Operations was true to his word. Five minutes later an armed, black clad operative walked in and asked Amanda to follow him.
Amanda was escorted through parts of Section she hadn't been allowed in yet and was 'shown around' all the new areas she now had access to. After twenty minutes of touring they arrived in front of a metal door.
"Your belongings will arrive shortly." Amanda's escort informed her then gestured for her to go inside.
"That's okay." Amanda returned as she preceded her escort into her new quarters, making a mental note to raid wardrobe as soon as possible. "You can burn them."
Amanda spent the next several minutes with her escort who showed her how to plug in a private access code to her new quarters. He also picked up a small object from on top of the dresser that turned out to be a scrambling device for privacy when she wanted it. If the operative thought it just a *bit* unusual for a new recruit to get this kind of 'freedom' after only three weeks of lackluster performance, he didn't say so. But the rumor mills were bound to buzz by tomorrow.
After her escort left, Amanda took a cursory look around, noting where the camera was, satisfied that, as promised, there was only one camera and even then surveillance would be random only. So far, Operations had kept his word. Tomorrow, she would start to reciprocate, but tonight she had some 'shopping' to do.
Studying the pda on her bed, Amanda found and memorized the quickest route and the access codes needed along that route to her destinations. Before she left she keyed in a private access code that only level five and higher operatives could override with a 'master' code.
Smiling to herself at the incongruity of her volunteering to remain in Section, Amanda headed out. On the way to wardrobe, her first destination, Amanda wondered how long it would take for the watchers to find her this time. The smile died a moment later though, as she thought about the fact that Mac wouldn't be able to find her either. 'Then again, if he didn't care, then why the hell should I?' Amanda asked herself and put it out of her mind.
********
An hour and a half later Amanda returned to her room trailed by a doting level one operative who carried her wardrobe and other various new personal effects. Smiling at the operative, Amanda thanked him and sent him on his way with the promise of a lunch date sometime in the near future.
Not long after she finished unpacking there was a knock on her door. Thinking it was her admirer, Amanda opened the door prepared to tell him firmly, but politely, to go away. The smile died on her lips as she saw the two armed tall, bulky and somber operatives on the other side.
The older of the two ordered Amanda to follow them. The two operatives then turned around and began walking, not even bothering to make sure she was following. Incensed at this treatment which she was just assured would cease, Amanda picked up her new duster coat and followed behind angrily, muttering about the treatment she was getting.
Surprised that the journey was taking them out of Section, Amanda held her tongue until they arrived at their destination. She didn't have long to wait, the ride in the Suburban was short, less than five minutes. Coming to a stop in front of a restaurant that looked closed for the evening, the younger of her two escorts told her to go inside and they would wait for her out here.
Entering the dimly lit restaurant, Amanda was thankful she brought her coat and put her hand on the hilt of the sword hidden inside as soon as she felt the presence of two immortals, one very old and one much younger.
Adjusting to the lighting, Amanda spotted her hosts, three in all and walked over to the one leaning back against the bar, an exasperated expression on his face. She stood mute for a moment then punched him solidly on the chin.
"What was that for?" Asked Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod incredulously.
"As if you don't know." Amanda spat, angry. He shows up now? Just when she finally got a new direction? Come to think of it, how *did* he pull off this visit?
"Oh, boy." Methos commented from the barstool. "Maybe Joe and I should leave you two alone."
"Not if you want pretty boy to keep his head."
"Amanda." Duncan tried to smooth things over, glad he was a quick healer. The woman had a pretty good right hook. "Would you let me explain?"
"Explain what?" Amanda fairly shouted, forgetting in her anger about the question of how he found her and got her a 'weekend pass.' "You disappear. No word to *any* one. God forbid you at least let us know you're alive."
"Amanda." Duncan tried again, getting annoyed himself. "You know what happened, I *had* to leave."
"In all fairness, Amanda," Methos tried to intervene and defend the Highlander. He wanted them *both* in Section so he needed them partially reconciled at the very least. "Duncan did have some issues to resolve."
"He had to brood? Of course, Duncan is the only one with 'issues.' I grieved for Richie too." Amanda showed no signs of calming down. "Oh, but you wouldn't know that, would you? You took off."
"Alright, so you got caught in a heist." Duncan interrupted her tirade, exasperated as well. "Like it's never happened before. You needed me to bail you out as usual. Sorry I wasn't around."
"Bail me out?" Amanda asked incredulously. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it?" Duncan asked, thinking that he knew Amanda well.
"You didn't tell them?" Amanda turned to Joe.
"It's been a little hectic." Joe defended. He came along because the walls were closing in, so to speak. Two worlds which he never imagined would be entangled were now irreversibly so. He'd have to tell them about his own connection to Section One soon. As it was, both Methos and Mac believed he had watchers in place there, but it wouldn't be long before they found out the whole truth. Joe wanted them to hear it from him first. Then he could worry about informing all the other parties involved.
"Tell us what?" Mac and Methos asked Joe for an answer almost simultaneously.
"About 'issues' that weren't yours." Amanda answered instead.
"Like what?" Mac turned back to Amanda.
"First of all, you weren't the only one who loved Richie. I don't care if either of these two read you the riot act about your desertion, already. It's my turn." Amanda didn't even pause for breath, wanting to get this off her chest without any interruptions from Duncan. "I can't believe you just took off like that. I loved him too, you know. Joe told me what happened. I should have heard about it from you."
"Are you finished yet?" Duncan asked, hoping she had gotten everything out of her system. Amanda was rubbing a newly healed wound raw.
"Not by a long shot." Amanda replied.
"What else?" Duncan asked tightly, unaware of Amanda's recent exploits.
"Do you know why I went back to doing museum heists?"
"You needed more money?" Duncan inquired sarcastically.
"No, you ignorant Scot." Amanda raged. "I finally found someone I could spend a lifetime with."
"That made you want to steal?" A confused Mac asked.
"No." Amanda sighed quietly, her indignation deflated with the memory. "I lost him."
"He died?" Mac asked quietly, his own anger deflated at the anguish in Amanda's eyes.
"I killed him and he couldn't forgive me."
"What?"
"I ruined his career in law enforcement, got his partner killed, too. Nick was one of us, he just didn't know it yet. I thought I would stay and try to…help…so I got involved in his life. Instead of helping I got him more involved in *our* world than he should have been." Amanda paused momentarily, the memories too painful.
Seeing the pain etched in his long time friend's face, Duncan walked over and took Amanda in his arms, trying belatedly to bring what comfort he could. He also tried to ignore the painful memories of his own past and Richie's similar induction into the immortal world. However, Duncan was about as successful at keeping the memories at bay as Amanda, and took as much comfort from her as she did from him.
"Thank you." Amanda stopped crying and leaned back in Duncan's embrace after a few minutes. "But I *need* to tell you."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." Amanda replied then turned to Methos and Joe who were standing around uncomfortably, ready to step outside and give the two some privacy. "It's okay Joe, you know the story already."
"You want me to go?" Methos asked, silent up until then.
"No, it's alright. But come to think of it, why are *you* here anyway?"
********
While Methos was trying to come up with a suitable answer for Amanda, Jones was having problems of his own at Center.
Two hours ago, *the* boss of the Agency who was known only as Methos had waltzed in unannounced, as usual. Jones got called in to Helmut Volker's old office by his superior. Jones had known that Methos was looking for a replacement for Volker, who had been sent to head Oversight because he wasn't cut out for running the Center. So Jones hadn't been surprised that Methos wasn't alone. What had shocked Jones beyond suppression was seeing who Methos had brought with him.
It wasn't that he was surprised that Michael Samuelle was alive, he knew that already. But that he was here, at Center, with the boss himself, was enough to make Jones' head spin. As if that wasn't enough of a shocker, Methos only stayed long enough to inform Jones that not only was Michael back in the organization, but he was Volker's replacement as well. Methos had another pressing matter to attend to, so it was Jones' responsibility to bring Michael up to speed and follow any and all directions the man would give him.
It had taken all of fifteen minutes to bring Michael up to speed. The next forty minutes entailed orders from Michael on what to do with current pressing 'hot spots' and going over a list of changes he wanted implemented right away.
The question was where did Michael's impressive knowledge of the organization come from? The man had been 'dead' for less than 48 hours. There was no way that everything Michael knew had come from a briefing in that short amount of time. So, did the knowledge come from his days at Section or had the plan to bring Michael into Center been set up from the beginning? And if so, why the charade with Volker? Not appreciating being kept out of the loop, Jones waited patiently for this briefing to come to an end before he asked his own questions.
Before the briefing came to a close however, the intercom buzzed and they were informed that Operations and Nikita had arrived. Surprised at the visit as he did not do the inviting, Jones turned to Michael suspiciously.
As anticipated, Michael had been expecting the visitors and told Jones that he would take care of this personally. Of course, he politely kicked Jones out first, 'asking' him to show the guests in on his way out without discussing who they would be encountering. Furthermore, Michael would contact Jones when the meeting was over.
As much as Jones would have loved to be a fly on the wall at this meeting, he knew better than to disobey a superior so he did as bid then went to get himself a drink, or two.
