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 Two of four

"My family comes from Glenfinnen on Loch Shiel, so I am a descendant of the MacLeod clan of which Duncan is also a member. Each generation of MacLeods, back to antiquity, has kept clan records -- births, deaths, marriages, events in the life of the clan MacLeod. My mother had charge of those clan records, and when she died, over twenty years ago, I was entrusted with them. It makes for pretty dull reading mostly, except for a couple of entries here and there over the centuries."

Amanda yawned without subtlety, and looked bored. Unperturbed, the doctor continued his narrative. "For instance, around the early 1600s, a foundling was brought to the clan chieftain, and having no son of his own, he adopted the lad. The clan record shows a baptism for Duncan MacLeod in 1608. About 28 years later, the death of Duncan MacLeod is recorded. A notation in the book, shows that Duncan somehow survived the fatal wound and returned to his family. Superstitious as they were then, the clan thought he was a demon and drove him away. He returned again somef years later to avenge his father's death and slew a Viking named Canwulf, who had been terrorizing the region. He disappears for over a hundred years when we again hear of him on the Continent. A clansman met him at a wealthy woman's estate where he was having his portrait done by the clansman's fiancée. The clansman recognized the tartan and found that he was addressing Duncan MacLeod of the Glenfinnen MacLeods."

Taking out a photo, he placed it on a tray, pressing a button. The tray slid through the wall into the other room. Amanda picked it up and glanced at it cursorily, then more closely. A look of surprise and pleasure crossed her face. The doctor noted this with an air of satisfaction. Amanda dropped it back on the tray as if it were nothing of interest. "That is a photo of an oil painting which I now have in my possession. It was badly damaged and placed in an attic. About sixty years ago, an alert art dealer, preparing to sell off an estate, recognized the clan tartan, called my mother, and she was able to purchase and restore it."

"Where is the painting now?" asked Amanda, studying the painting with a speculative gleam in her eye.

"In a safe place," the doctor retorted dryly. "Over twenty years ago, I was called in by the police on a strange case. A decapitated body. You may have seen one or two?" Amanda shrugged, so he continued. "Not only was it headless, but it looked as if it had received huge charges of electricity. Identification was impossible, due to the condition of the body, but I kept some tissue samples. We had no DNA testing then, but I was young, inexperienced, curious. Checking through the police files, I found several similar cases at other times and in other places. My first thought was a serial killer with peculiar tendencies."

"Haven't they all?"

"Then I began to suspect ritual murders by a cult, or an execution. In fact, that seems to be the police line on these deaths, so far all unsolved. Cult murders, which of course, they are."

"As usual, doctor, you are a long time getting to the point. How long do you plan to keep me here?"

"A little more of your patience, please. I also around that time came into possession of the clan archives. There was a letter sent from the Continent, in 1672, from a clansman to his parents. He said that he had met with his kinsman, Duncan MacLeod. Remember that this fellow would have been just a lad when Duncan was banished. He was astonished to see that Duncan had not aged a day in over 30 years. Not a day, he stated. With the other evidence I had gathered, I began to think the unthinkable -- Duncan MacLeod was immortal. Now I have proof of it. As I can prove that you are like him."

"So far, your story has bored me almost comatose."

The doctor slid another item through to her. "I think you will recall this newspaper clipping which I showed you earlier. This was from a 1938 Berlin newspaper. As you said, the story is about two British spies who were being sought by the German police. Apparently, they escaped, but not without attracting some notoriety. Note the names with the pictures, Duncan MacLeod and Amanda Montrose. The article says he was posing as an antique dealer and she as a chanteuse in a night club."

"I can read!" Amanda said with asperity, studying the fragile copy.

"Names, of course, mean nothing, but the faces from 1938, from 1752, they tell a very intriguing story, don't they. My last two photos, this one taken in 1955 at some Paris gala by a street photographer and printed in Paris Match. No names but look at the faces, you and Duncan MacLeod. And this one, taken by me in 1995, forty years later, of Duncan MacLeod and Amanda Montrose stepping off his barge on the Seine. While I have aged according to my biological years, you and Duncan have not. How do you explain that?"

"All this proves is that there is a very strong family resemblance between generations. MacLeod's ancestors have all been warriors, and later, antique dealers, apparently."

"And yours have always been thieves?"

"Look, I've been very patient. You said you would come to the point. So what is it? What do you want?" Amanda had been trying hard to keep her composure, but she was no longer enjoying the way the conversation was going.

"As fascinating as my kinsman, Duncan MacLeod, is, you have proven to be even more so. As I said, I am a doctor, specializing in genetics. I work for the police occasionally to do forensic testing for their cases. With this position, I have access to police files. On a whim, I ran your name through the Interpol and British police files. You know what I found."

"More photos?" Amanda, leaning on her hand, smiles a bit impudently but her eyes show no mirth.

"A record of arrests, going back over two hundred years to when the police began to keep records, for suspicion of theft -- jewellery, art, gems, museum artifacts, papers -- Amanda Montrose. And yes, in later police files, there are photos of you, some of them at least fifty years old. Your name has continued to be connected with thefts right up to about a year ago. Do you know what that makes you?"

"Wealthy?" Amanda laughed.

"Over two hundred years old."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to guess a girl's age. Anyway, I have never been convicted of a crime. It's been a case of 'round up the usual suspects', and of course, with my family history, I was a natural suspect. Nothing has ever been proven against me. As you have no real proof about immortals. It's just a fantasy of yours."

The doctor dropped a tattered old book into the tray and slid it into the room. Amanda gave it a curious glance but left it on the tray. "Do you know what this is?"

"My guess is that it's a book," she said laconically.

"More than that. It's a journal."

"And I should be interested because."

"Your name appears in it several times. Look at the writing, the dates. I have had it authenticated. All the entries are from the same writer, in the mid 1600s. Read the passage I have bookmarked, if you please."

Amanda shrugged, and picking up the fragile book, carefully opened it to the marked page and read aloud. "My immortal crossed swords with Amanda Montrose today. She, being the victor, has left me without an assignment. I shall take up as Amanda's Watcher until I am given another immortal."

"And the date?"

"April 21, 1638 anno domini. All this proves is that he was writing a fantasy story, like Gulliver's Travels. Who could take that seriously?"

"Your name appears in it quite often, as well as a very good description of you."

"A coincidence. There must have been many other women in history with my name, why not in fiction too?"

"Pull out the loose page and take a look at that."

Amanda slid the page out and was aghast at the sketched likeness of herself. She tried for nonchalance but was having difficulty being convincing. She seemed to be considering her next tack and asked, "So what are you after with all this--solving an old crime--settling an old score? What is it?"

"I want immortality, Miss Montrose, and I want your co-operation to help me get it."

Amanda, completely taken aback, suddenly laughed. "Immortality, Doctor? I can't give you that any more than I could get it for myself! This is just too weird! So you think you have found us out." Her eyes narrowed as she glared into the mirror where she estimated the doctor to be. "Remember those bodies, doctor, and take warning. Right now, as we speak, there are people, friends, looking for me. And when they find me, your life, and your work will be finished. I will personally take great pleasure in disposing of it, and you." Amanda strode purposefully away from the mirror, then whirled and made a swift powerful slice through the air, as if with a sword. "Have I made myself clear?" she said coldly.

The doctor, unnerved momentarily, had a little trouble getting control of his voice. He replied with false bravado, "No one can find you, Amanda. There is no trail to lead them here. You have no idea where you are, do you? You could be in France, Italy, Scotland. Anywhere. How long were you unconscious? You don't know. What day is it? How long have you been here? For all you know, a week could have passed. Maybe they've given up."

"Immortals giving up, in only a week? Our vengeance goes on for centuries. We don't forget or give up. Save yourself. Let me go. I swear I won't let anyone harm you."

"And my work? You can't allow it, and I can't allow you to leave until I have my preliminary results. Then it will be too late. There would be no point in killing me as someone else will simply continue the research." The doctor paused, trying to sound reasonable. He continued in a lighter tone, "Besides, I have placed every convenience at your disposal--food, wine, books, music. What more could you want?"

His manner rankled Amanda as she paced restlessly around the room as if measuring the size of her prison, her rising temper showing in her quick, staccato movements. "My freedom! You left out that particular necessity! How dare you imprison me here like some lab animal. I'm a human being and I have rights!" Amanda yelled, standing very close to the mirror.

Strident laughter made her stagger back, shocked and alarmed. "A human being? Is that what you think you are? A human being?" More laughter roared out through the speakers, almost hysterical. Amanda recoiled from the sound, visibly shaken by the mad laughter, moving almost involuntarily away from the mirror. "Haven't you ever wondered what you are, where you came from, what you're doing here?" The doctor's arrogant voice rang out loudly through the room, causing Amanda to raise her hands to block out the sound.

"Of course, everyone does" she answered defensively. Thoughts seem to be crowding through Amanda's mind as she said somewhat tentatively, "Do you know what we are? Dr. MacLeod, do you know what we are?" Her voice was urgent with curiosity.

The doctor seemed chagrined by his outburst as he replied, somewhat apologetically. "No, I don't. Yet. I only know, or actually, theorize, that you're not human, not entirely. Maybe not at all."

All the fight seemed to have deserted Amanda as she moved over to the nearest chair and dropped into it. "What makes you think we're not human?" Amanda asked, still in shock at this unnerving disclosure.

"What made you think you were?" the doctor retorted somewhat waspishly. "Immune to all human afflictions, unable to be killed except by decapitation, spontaneously healing, living for centuries. Does that sound human to you?"

"We have the same biology--breathe air, require food and warmth, and love. Of course we're human, just another branch." Amanda's voice was uncertain, unconvincing.

"Please look at the computer monitor on the table." The monitor crackled to life and Amanda moved toward it. "As mentioned, I am a genetic specialist. My interest in longevity has led me on this path for over twenty years, trying to solve the mystery of Duncan MacLeod .and later, his friend Amanda Montrose. Mysteries are meant to be solved."

"Mysteries are meant to remain mysteries!" Amanda rejoined.

"I have ascertained to my satisfaction that Duncan is over four hundred years old, and you, Amanda, probably about the same." He paused for a comment, and receiving none, continued. "I examined the tissue sample for DNA from the decapitation victim a few years ago. Then I tested some DNA from hair samples I obtained from MacLeod's barge. And lastly, I have tissue samples from you, taken a few hours ago while you were unconscious, as well as blood samples."

At this, Amanda, hotly indignant, leapt to her feet. "You're a ghoul, you sick son-of-a-bitch! What kind of doctor are you? How dare you take advantage of me when I was helpless?"

"Well, I didn't take your head," he answered coolly. "Getting back to the DNA. You'll excuse me if I am boring on the subject, but it is my life's work. I now have three samples of those I suspect of being immortal and the fourth one is my own. Look at the DNA strands on the monitor, Amanda."

"So, what am I supposed to see? I'm not a scientist!"

"From the beginning to a certain point, the strands are all different, as one would expect. Now, as we move further along, note that the top three are identical from there to the end. Identical in every respect."

A look of horror passed over Amanda's face as the implication sank in. "You mean, MacLeod and I are related--like brother and sister?" She reeled away from the screen as if it were a viper, poised to strike. "Oh my god, oh my god." Too shocked to speak, Amanda began to pace furiously while the doctor tried to recapture her attention.

"Amanda, Miss Montrose, please listen. You're not related--at least not biologically. The end strands of your DNA are, I believe, manufactured."

"Oh great! Now you're saying I'm some sort of android? Marvellous! That's a lot easier to take!" Amanda, still very shaken, wandered away from the mirror, trying to regain her composure, muttering to herself. "Maybe this is just a bad dream I'm having, and I'll wake up soon. Please, let this just be a bad dream." She drifted over to the sofa and slumped into it.

"Amanda! "The doctor's voice cut sharply into the room, startling Amanda almost as if she had forgotten him. "You're not an android or whatever. You are a biological being, maybe just not a human one. I have a theory, if you would care to hear it."

"So far, your theories have caused me a tremendous stress headache. Well, I obviously haven't got anything better to do. Let's have it."

"I theorize that beings, probably not terrestrial, wanted to gain a foothold on this planet but couldn't live here because their biology is so different. So they have been taking human embryos, injecting them with their own genetic code and possibly then implanting the embryos into a womb-like environment. The fetuses would grow normally and at a certain point, the infant would be placed on the Earth. The infants may be left where they would be found by humans, and raised as their own."

"An alien race with the maternal instincts of cuckoos. Nice theory, Doc. It really makes me feel a whole lot better." Amanda, now back to her usual feisty self, resumed pacing the room. Amanda continued, "So, what do you think? That MacLeod and I, and all the other Immortals are planning to take control of the Earth at some predetermined moment in time. You know what? Immortals aren't known for their team spirit. When two Immortals meet, only one walks away."

"Why?"

"There can be only one," Amanda answered cryptically.

"Actually, I think you are a species that poses some danger to humans, if only because of the power of immortality. Why haven't any of you done anything for humanity, .besides killing each other?"

"How do you know that the great musicians, artists, scientists, weren't Immortals. Think about that. Maybe they make their contribution, then move on to continue their work. Maybe human history is filled with Immortals who have been benefiting humanity. How would anyone know the difference?"

The doctor wasn't buying into her theory. It ran too much counter to his own, that immortals were dangerous and possibly evil. "Who are these immortals, then. Which of the greats are they?" he snapped back.

Ignoring his question, she continued on, now warming to a rage, "It's you," she pointed straight at the mirror, " who want to control the world. You and your science. You think you should experiment and create things just because you can. Mysteries are meant to be solved even if it causes new viruses to be unleashed, new weapons to be created. Maybe you should examine your true motives, Doctor, before you get something started that you can't control. Quit now before you become a shatterer of worlds."

The reference to the atom bomb struck home and the doctor was speechless for several seconds. "Amanda, I can't stop now. There's too much at stake. I've invested years in this, every penny I've got. I have to be allowed to complete my research." he said desperately.

"Your research for what? To bring about the greatest evil since the Inquisition and the witch hunts? I was there, barely escaping many times with my own life. I saw thousands die horribly. I saw what superstition, fear and lust for power can do. Your revelations will make that seem like a Sunday picnic. What would someone not do for a longer life, a chance at immortality? What you're doing now? Multiply that by thousands, and you can see where this is leading."

"Imagine, Amanda, a world with no disease, no cancers, no AIDS, no killer viruses. Bodies would heal spontaneously. Imagine the brilliant, the talented, the athletes, staying at their peak for centuries. How far could humanity reach? The stars? Yes, imagine astronauts who could travel for centuries. What mysteries and discoveries would be revealed."

"Imagine legions of immortal soldiers who can't be killed. Imagine drug lords and gang leaders who can live for centuries. Imagine terrorists who don't fear death because they know they'll be back to strike again. You'll excuse my pessimism, but I have lived through some pretty horrific times, and I have a rather dark view of humanity. Expect the worst and you'll always be prepared, Doc. Words to survive by." Amanda, leaning against the mirror, inches from the doctor, was earnestly trying to convince him but he seemed abstracted, obsessed. She went on, trying to reason with him.

"Doctor MacLeod, you must know your discoveries would be taken over by governments who would want to control whatever serum or drug you manage to create. They would decide who gets to be immortal or not. If they let you live at all, you would be just as much a prisoner as you have made me. Do you expect governments to behave more honourably than you?"

"It won't be like that. The scientific community will rally behind me. The people, when they hear about my discovery, will demand it be used democratically. Amanda, if anyone tried to suppress or control this, there would be rebellion." Realizing that he seem to be making her argument for her, he stopped, unable to clarify his thoughts.

Taking advantage of his confusion, Amanda cut in."And what about us? Anyone suspected of being an Immortal would be hunted like animals, captured, experimented on, used for research or body parts. Is that the world you want? Is that your version of humanity?"

"There's more to this for me. I have cancer. It's in remission for now, but I know I don't have long, maybe two or three years. If I can develop an effective treatment from your plasma, I might have a chance to complete my research. I've already been injecting myself with some serum."

"Are you completely out of your mind!? Injecting yourself with an unknown substance? I don't mean to be insensitive, but what if you die or go into a coma? What happens to me? I'll be trapped in here for god knows how long!"

"I've already taken precautions. The motion sensor in the lab is set so that if there is no movement for twenty-four hours, the door will release. I have no intention of letting any harm come to you, Amanda."

Continued in Part 3 of 4

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