Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. The characters, Amanda Montrose, Nick Wolfe, Lucy Becker, Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod, are copyright to Davis/Panzer Productions. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any income expected from this story. Note: this story takes place before Dead on Arrival. The story plot is original and copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

About Your Immortality...
by Maril Swan

Part One of four

A benevolent early spring sun made Paris sparkle. The street was thronged with hurrying crowds that streamed by the outdoor café where a young woman sat alone at a table, engrossed in a book. A yellowed newspaper clipping drifted down onto the table. Berlin,1938. A sharp gasp of surprise escaped as she recognized her own features and his, in an article accompanied by their pictures. A photo fell onto the clipping, showing the same couple stepping off a barge, laughing together. Then a business card landed on top of the other items. The platinum-haired woman adjusted her sunglasses, and picked up the business card which was inscribed 'James MacLeod, MD'. "Dr. MacLeod, I presume?" she quipped, looking up from the card to a very tall, gaunt, dark-haired man staring intently down at her as if gauging her reactions. Oddly, she thought he looked like Sherlock Holmes, cold, somewhat sinister, highly intelligent. His face was angular, almost emaciated, which accentuated his thin, hooked nose and deep-set grey eyes.

He bowed slightly and offered his hand saying, "Miss Montrose, I believe." Amanda ignored it and he withdrew his hand. Somewhat affronted, he sat down, uninvited. Her mouth opened to protest at this intrusion, but he cut in quickly with, "Interesting photos, wouldn't you say, Miss Montrose?" in a definite Scottish accent.

"Not particularly. Is there some significance to them?" she replied casually.

"To you and Duncan MacLeod, I should say so! The dates, Miss Montrose. 1938 and 1995, almost sixty years apart, and yet look at the faces. No aging at all. That is quite significant, I would say. How would you explain it?" He watched her appraisingly, which Amanda found uncomfortable, making her defensive, angry.

"I don't have to explain anything. And I don't appreciate a complete stranger assuming he can sit at my table uninvited," she retorted indignantly.

"Not a complete stranger. I am a distant relative of your good friend, Duncan MacLeod."

"Whatever. I still don't know you or why you've intruded on my privacy. Excuse my abruptness, but I would prefer my own company." She returned her gaze to her book, but the doctor, unperturbed by her dismissal, hadn't moved. She shot him another sharp glance. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm waiting for a friend, and would like you to leave."

"In good time. When I say what I have come to say. Aren't you curious about the clipping and the photos? I certainly was."

Amanda picked up the newspaper clipping. It was fragile and wrinkled but the features in the photos were clearly hers and Duncan's. "Something about two British spies being sought by the German police." Amanda said, reading the German text without any hesitation.

"And their names? That was most curious."

"OK! So now you know the skeleton in the family closet. Duncan's and my grandparents were spies! What of it?"

"And nearly sixty years later, you and Duncan MacLeod, obviously lovers, are photographed leaving his barge on the Seine."

"Our families go back a long way together." She shrugged gracefully, and handed back the clipping.

"I daresay. Or is there another explanation? The photos are of the same two people who never age. As Sherlock Holmes was fond of saying, 'when you have eliminated the possible, what remains, however impossible, must be the truth'." As if mocking Holmes, he steepled his hands in front of his chest.

The allusion was not lost on Amanda who shivered slightly at her earlier assessment of the man. Amanda checked her watch, frowning slightly, then glanced up and down the street as if expecting someone. Seeing no rescuer, she returned her attention to the doctor. "Listen, Dr. MacLeod, if that's your real name. I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing. If you think you can intimidate me with some retouched photos, you can think again. I don't scare that easily." She laughed acerbically and added, "And if this is your idea of a pick up line in a bar, you really need to work on it." Vexation edged her voice as she checked her watch again, then the street. Clearly annoyed, she grabbed her belongings, and abruptly left the table.

The doctor hesitated for a second, then followed her, keeping up with the fast pace she was setting. "Miss Montrose, I work for the police--forensic pathologist, autopsies, DNA testing--that sort of thing."

Amanda stopped abruptly, causing near collisions with other pedestrians. The mention of the police seemed to assuage her fears somewhat. "Oh, so that's what this is all about! And I thought it was going to be interesting. You're wasting your time, Doc. Whatever it is, I didn't do it. 'I'm a good girl, I am'," she replied, doing a reasonable mimic of Eliza Doolittle. Amanda strode off causing the doctor to trot to catch up.

"You're good, I'll give you that," he answered wryly. "Dozens of arrests on suspicion of theft -- jewellery, precious gems, art, museum pieces."

"And no convictions," she asserted, shooting him a withering glance.

"A testament to your skills." He allowed himself a quick smile.

"Or the police's lack of them." The pace was still quite rapid as if Amanda had a destination in mind and was in a hurry to get there. The doctor matched her stride for stride.

"I don't work on robberies, Miss Montrose. Unusual murders is my area of speciality. Some pretty macabre cases come to me. Decapitated bodies, burned beyond recognition by huge charges of electricity."

"Well, there goes my appetite for lunch. I'm sure this ranks high among pathologists as polite conversation, but." She shivered slightly.

"Don't bother to pretend you've never seen one of these decapitation victims. I know better."

Amanda halted again, confronting the doctor angrily. "All right! Why don't you just tell me what this is about. Let's stop fencing."

"I have a feeling that fencing with you could be fatal." He bowed chivalrously with an ironic smile.

Amanda swung away and crossed the street, moving gracefully through the traffic. The doctor followed, dodging cars which blasted at him with their horns. "Isn't this what the police would call 'stalking'?" she snapped, noting that he was still with her.

"I suppose. Actually, I have been watching you and Duncan MacLeod for years."

Amanda gave him a sidelong glance, without breaking stride. "Why? What do you want?"

"I just want to talk to you, about Duncan MacLeod."

"We have nothing to talk about. I don't know where he is." She continued moving swiftly down the street, with the doctor still by her side.

"Miss Montrose, just give me a few minutes of your time." His voice was a bit breathless from the exertion of keeping up with her but he showed no sign of leaving her alone.

Amanda's patience was exhausted. She muttered under her breath, "OK, you asked for this," and quickly turned down an alley. The doctor was right on her heels. He reached into his pocket just as Amanda whirled and aimed a shattering kick to his mid-section. He dropped, but leapt back up before she could land another blow. Surprised at his agility, and his obvious skill in martial art, she recognized a worthy adversary and lunged again. After several parries and kicks, the doctor entangled her with a hold long enough to jab a syringe into her arm. "No fair," she murmured as she collapsed her weight on him.

A sleek black Jaguar pulled up at the end of the alley as the doctor half-dragged and half-carried Amanda and deposited her into the back seat. As the car sped away, a red-haired woman stepped in front of the alley, watching the car's retreat and speaking urgently into a cell phone.

Chapter Two

Nick marched rapidly away from the café where he had arranged to meet Amanda for lunch. After half an hour of futile waiting, he decided to leave. A block from the café, his cell phone rang. "Yeah, OK, I understand. Tell Amanda to have a good time." Nick growled into the phone, a sarcastic edge to his voice. Angrily, he folded his cell phone and was about to put it in his pocket when it buzzed again. "Joe, hi, just dandy, .and you. No, I haven't seen Amanda. We were supposed to meet for lunch but she stood me up. I just got a message from her. She's visiting some old friend, a lord something or other from the north of France. No, I didn't speak to her .apparently she's too mad at me. He gave me the message."

Joe's voice cut in urgently, "Amanda's Watcher said she left the café around 11:45 this morning, being pushed into a car by a middle-aged guy. She said she looked drugged. Anyway, her Watcher caught the licence plate number of the car and checked it out. It was a phony." Joe paused, and Nick could hear a deeply indrawn breath as he added, "Nick, I think we can assume that Amanda has been kidnapped! Her Watcher got a good look at the guy and his description has been passed to all the other Watchers. So far, no immortals of that description are known. That much is good news at least. I'll keep you posted. Call Lucy, she'll be worried."

Nick, now visibly shaken, replied, "Thanks, Joe. I'm going back to the café, see if I can pick up any leads there." Flipping his phone away, he retraced his steps to the restaurant.

Amanda, draped on a sofa, was just groggily coming around. She felt disoriented, as she stood and peered around the room, looking for something familiar. The room was simply furnished with a sofa and chair, two end tables with lamps, a piano, table and chairs. A bottle of wine, a single wineglass, a bowl of fruit and some wedges of cheese were set out invitingly on the table. On the wall were some paintings and mirrors, one large mirror occupying most of the end wall. Amanda squinted against the blinding brightness of the room, her head still fuzzy from the drug as she took in the rest of the place. A bookshelf full of books covered part of one wall with a stereo unit attached to it in which there was a collection of CDs. Amanda, attempting to walk, found she was still a bit dizzy and leaned on the sofa for support. Her head was aching as she staggered to a door. There was no handle.

Puzzled, she prowled around the apartment, finally seeing another door with a handle. Quickly opening it, she found it lead into a bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she splashed some water in her face, trying to clear her head. Looking wryly into the mirror, she muttered to herself, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

Returning to the main room, she noted there were no other doors, and no windows. It suddenly occurred to her that she was imprisoned in this room. "What the hell is this place? Am I in prison?" Seeing the large mirror, she directed her attention there. "Hey, what am I arrested for? I'm entitled to know. Hey. " much louder and angrier, now right in front of the mirror, ".is there someone out there?" She hammered on the glass with her fist, then snatched up the wine bottle and hurled it at the mirror.

From the other side of the mirror, Dr. MacLeod instinctively moved back as the bottle hurtled toward the mirror and smashed. Amanda picked up the wineglass, preparing to throw it too. "Miss Montrose, Amanda, no more violence, please." At the sound of his voice, Amanda set the glass down. The doctor was observing Amanda through a one-way mirror which gave him an unobstructed view of the whole apartment. He was in a laboratory containing computers, instruments and all sorts of electronic equipment.

"Dr. MacLeod? What the hell is going on? First, you drugged me, and now you've locked me in here. Why?" Amanda's voice was loud and angry, but controlled.

"Immortality. I may not have your kind but I can try for the other kind. My research results about immortals, when they're published, will give me a place in history."

"As a lunatic," Amanda snarled. "You'll be laughed out of the scientific community."

"Hardly, Miss Montrose. When I publish my findings, and have the test subject for proof, no one can dispute me."

"Test subject? Me? You're planning to keep me in here? For how long?" Amanda's voice had a dangerous edge to it.

The doctor sensed another outbreak of destruction was imminent and spoke quickly, calmly. "Amanda, I have been compiling data on your .uh, kind for years, but until now, have never been able to get this close to one of you. Your camouflage has been perfect. I could walk right past one of you and never know it," he said somewhat wonderingly.

"I wish you had!" growled Amanda. She seated herself on the floor, a short distance from the mirror, still feeling the effects of the drug.

"I'd like to give you a quick background to my interest in you and Duncan MacLeod, if you'll permit me."

"Do I have a choice?"

Continued in Part 2 of 4