Seacouver
Duncan MacLeod scratched his chin absentmindedly as he went over the books. No one was in the dojo besides Richie. It looked like a quiet day. Suddenly, he felt the buzz of a third immortal. He looked up to see Reina standing in the doorway.
"Hi Reina!" Richie said cheerfully. "How was your trip?"
"It was – interesting," she said cryptically. "But not one I plan to make again any time soon."
"It must have been some trip."
"You could say that."
"See anyone famous?"
"Nah, just the wanna-be famous. Every other person is an aspiring actor or something. I am thoroughly convinced that the sun has bleached out the brains of the residents there."
"You are an East Coast snob."
"I never pretended to be otherwise."
Richie approached the staircase leading to the locker room. "You wanna go over to Joe's later?"
"Sure. Gimme a call when you're ready."
"No problem. I'll call ya," Richie disappeared into the locker room.
"So." Reina said, turning to MacLeod.
"So."
After several minutes of awkward silence Reina spoke again.
"I hope you're not expecting an apology."
"I wouldn't dream of it. You were never much into apologies. Even when you were wrong." MacLeod said.
"I don't suppose I'll be getting an apology either."
"No."
"Of course not. After over 400 years I guess I can't expect you to give up all that protecting women and small dogs thing you have going either."
"I was just trying to help because I care."
Reina sighed. "Sometimes I think it's possible to care too much," she said. "But I appreciate the sentiment if not the resulting actions."
"You're not the first one to tell me that."
"Somehow I'm not surprised. Four hundred years is a long time. I'll catch you later."
MacLeod watched the younger immortal leave the dojo. Despite her apparently cheery disposition he knew that this was probably not the last time he would have this conversation with her.
Location: Unknown
Despite his apparent age he had always been open to new technologies. Technology made it slightly easier to do his job. It was to his advantage to know more than those around him. When he had first heard of the young woman she was just the sibling of an FBI agent. It never hurt to cultivate allies in the agency. So many operatives had either died or were forced to leave after completing an assignment. She was just someone who was to be manipulated in order to gain the cooperation of her sibling. After reading the report sent to him via e-mail he realized that the woman had so much more potential. While she might not have gone through with the act for which she had made the trip. Given the proper motivation, he had no doubt that she could be useful to him. It was only a matter of properly setting things up. And he had just the operative to set the wheels in motion. It would take some time, but putting the pieces in place properly always took time. After some consideration he forwarded the pertinent information along with instructions to yet another operative. This one was already in the perfect position to implement the plan.
He pulled out a cigarette and put them between lips, which were leathery due to years of poor skin care and a nasty nicotine habit. Almost mindlessly he flicked open the cigarette lighter he'd had for years. It was engraved with a phrase that ensured his survival: Trust no one. He lit the cigarette and inhaled his brush with lung cancer all but forgotten. As long as things continued on the course they were currently on a small thing like cancer was the last of his concerns.
finis
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