Disclaimer: This is a Joe Dawson Story although Duncan, Richie and Anne Lindsey make an appearance.I know the characters Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, Richie Ryan and Anne Lindsey are the property of Rysher Entertainment and Panzer/Davis Productions. So, I cloned them. Beth Holliday, of course is mine. There is no infringement intended. I also borrowed a line from Casablanca, you'll know which one. Nancy Heiken who wrote the fifth season episode Glory Days, also used part of it.

Thank you, Dawn Cunningham, for beta reading my story and for your valuable advice and encouragement. I hope you enjoy my flirtation with fan fiction.

All My Life's A Circle

By Barbara Lavelle

2:00 A.M. Seacouver, Washington

"It's nine o-clock on a Saturday, the usual crowd shuffles in...." The words from an old Billy Joel song had been running through Joe Dawson's mind all evening. It had been a long night. The combination of the sound system cutting in and out, two jerks intent on starting a fight just for the hell of it and the band showing up one member short, resulted in a rowdier crowd than usual. On nights like this he almost wished he still owned the bookstore. He was left with a pounding headache, and eager to get home.

Mike, the part time bartender and fellow Watcher, was busy stacking chairs when he looked up, and noticed Joe rubbing his forehead for the hundredth time.

"Hey, Joe, why don't you call it a night, I can finish up here." He caught Joe's look of hesitation and reinforced his offer. "Come on, Joe, you know it's been one hell of night. Between those two clowns trying their best to pick a fight and our sound system cutting in and out, we had more than a few pissed off customers. Go home. I'll finish closing up and I'll have Jack Simms check out the sound system before you come in tomorrow."

Joe looked relieved. He gave Mike a quick salute and came out from behind the bar. Legs lost to a land mine in Vietnam had been replaced by prosthetic limbs. The addition of a cane for balance added to Joe's unique gait.

"You talked me into it, Mike." Passing the bartender on his way out he gave him a few pats on the shoulder. "Don't stay too late yourself, pal. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Joe."

Once outside, Joe took a few deep cleansing breaths. Fishing his car keys out of his pants pocket, he walked over to his late model, specially equipped LeSabre and climbed in. Rolling down the window, he leaned back against the headrest and sat for a few minutes savoring the night air and the silence. He liked this time of the night. He felt he had the whole world to himself.

Looking up at a cloudless, star filled sky, he finally felt at peace. His headache was beginning to fade. Taking another deep cleansing breath through the open window, he turned on the ignition and heard the quiet purr of the engine coming to life.

Driving down Waters Street, he began thinking about the combo he had hired. The Etta Powell Trio. Etta's trio had been a staple on the Seacouver bar scene for quite a while. Popular with locals and tourists alike. Yep, Etta was a very classy lady. With her sultry voice and bluesy piano stylings, she always packed them in.

Lost in thought, he suddenly realized he was coming up behind a black, older model Chevy van. It was covered with more rust than paint. The rear bumper was barely hanging on, the license plate was missing, and the tires looked like they were as bald as they could get.

The driver must be drunk or high, Joe concluded shaking his head in disgust. Weaving from side to side, going over the center line and then back again, slowing down and speeding up. This guy was an accident waiting to happen.

Great! he didn't dare try to go around the way the van was weaving back and forth. There weren't any side streets to turn onto for another mile. He could feel himself tensing, the headache starting to return.

"Just cool it Joe, just relax. Just slow down and stay far enough behind the jerk until he turns off or you can," he muttered to himself.

Fourteenth Avenue was the next cross street. He decided to turn off there, it was out of his way, but who cared, it was worth it just to get away from this maniac. He started to slow down knowing there was a two-way stop sign at the corner.

The driver of the van had other ideas. Instead of slowing down he increased his speed, causing the van to weave even more.

Then Joe saw it.

Another car approached the intersection from the right, headed into the path of the speeding van.

Joe started blowing his horn, trying to get the attention of the driver of the van and warn the driver of the car.

Too late. The van barreled passed the stop sign and rammed into the side of the red Cavalier crossing in front of it.

Everything took on a dreamlike quality, each movement in slow motion. The sickening sound of metal grinding against metal and glass shattering seemed to echo in Joe's ears. The momentum of the van spun the Cavalier halfway around, leaving the car facing in the opposite direction.

Joe pulled to the curb and started to get out.

Through some miracle the stalled van was still drivable and the driver was frantically trying to get the engine to turn over. Three tries and he succeeded. The gut wrenching sound of grinding gears and squealing tires grabbed Joe's attention.

Starting forward, Joe raised his cane and shouted at the van driver, out of sheer frustration. "Hey, you drunken son of a bitch, you caused this, now stay here and face the consequences."

But the van driver peeled off, disappearing into the night, the rear end of the van fishtailing in the driver's haste to escape.

"Rotten son of a bitch!" More expletives followed. Joe was trembling with rage at the senselessness of it all.

The van's rear bumper, freed from whatever bits of rusted metal had been holding it on, now lay in the center of the intersection, along with shards of glass and molded plastic trim from the Cavalier.

His anger turned to concern as he reached the damaged car. The van had smashed into the front half of the car, pushing the door in against the steering wheel, just missing the driver. As he got nearer he saw the driver was a young woman, slumped back against the seat, held in place by her seat belt. The impact had shattered the windows, most of the glass falling inside the door frame.

Reaching inside he held his fingers against her throat checking for a pulse. It was strong — she was still breathing, thank God — but unconscious. She had a cut on her forehead that was bleeding slightly and a few smaller cuts on her face and arms from flying glass.

Turning around, he walked back to his car, opened the door and reached inside to grab his cell phone. With trembling fingers he dialed 911 and gave the operator all the pertinent information. That accomplished, he returned to the wrecked car to wait for the police and paramedics to arrive. He didn't dare try to move the injured woman himself, he was afraid he might do more damage than good. After checking around the car for signs of leaking gas and finding none, he figured she'd be safe until help arrived. Taking off his jacket, he draped it over the woman's upper body to keep her warm.

Five minutes later the police arrived, checked the woman's condition, and set up warning flares around the accident scene. A short time later the ambulance arrived, followed by a tow truck.

While the paramedics worked on getting the woman out of the car, Joe gave the police an explanation of the accident, and a description of the van.

The paramedics were lifting the still unconscious woman unto a gurney when he approached the car. They had placed a cervical collar around her neck and strapped her to a backboard as a precaution against possible neck injuries or spinal cord damage.

"How is she?" Joe asked.

One paramedic was about forty-five or so, the other looked to be twenty years younger. The younger of the two looked up as they wheeled her to the ambulance. "She probably has a concussion. But, her pulse is strong, blood pressure is normal and I don't think there are any internal injuries. They'll know more when we get her to the hospital and they can take x-rays."

Joe knew he should go home, but, he didn't want to wait and read about the accident in the paper in the morning. Besides not all accidents were reported in the news.

"Do you think it would be all right if I followed behind? I'd like to know how she comes out."

"Sure, no problem. We're taking her to County General downtown."

Joe watched as they loaded the still unconscious woman into the ambulance and left for the hospital.

The police through with taking notes, and measuring skid marks, were already leaving the scene. The tow truck left soon after.

Joe walked over to his car and climbed in. He felt completely drained. The adrenaline rush of witnessing the accident and the tension of talking to the police was starting to wear off.

Taking a few seconds to catch his breath and revive his spirit, he started the car and drove to the hospital.

After parking his car in the visitor's parking lot, Joe entered the hospital through the emergency entrance. The ambulance was already parked outside.

Walking to the reception desk he inquired about the accident victim. He was told that she had been taken to one of the ER examination rooms, but because he wasn't a relative they weren't allowed to give out any more information. Hoping he could find out about her condition some how, he took a seat in the reception area and waited.

He watched as various hospital personnel entered and left several examination rooms, issuing orders, writing instructions on clips boards, and talking amongst themselves.

Several more people wandered in with a variety of complaints. None appeared too serious from what he could gather. Overall it was a quiet night in the E.R.

Joe looked at his watch. It was now almost 4:30 a.m. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. Running a hand through his hair, he kept going over the events of the evening in his mind.

"Joe? Joe?"

Finally it registered. Someone was talking to him. He glanced up to see Anne Lindsey looking down at him with a concerned frown.

"Oh, sorry, Anne, I was off in space for a minute."

It had been a long time since he had seen Dr. Anne Lindsey. He had forgotten she worked in the Emergency Room at County General.

Since breaking up with MacLeod, she didn't come in Joe's club anymore.

Her growing daughter and a demanding full time job, filled her life now. She and MacLeod had parted on friendly terms, but rarely saw each other anymore. They both had moved on with their lives.

"Are you all right, Joe?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, Anne. I witnessed a terrible car accident on my way home from the club and I just wanted to know how the accident victim came out."

He saw Anne visibly relax.

"We've had several patients brought in, can you give me a description?"

"A woman, mid thirties, long auburn hair. The paramedics thought she might have a concussion.

"Oh, I know who you mean. Her name is Beth Holliday. She's going to be fine, Joe. She does have a concussion, and the cut on her forehead had a small piece of glass imbedded in it and required a few stitches. But, other than that, no internal injuries or severe trauma. She'll probably be sore and stiff for a while from the crash impact though. We're going to keep her for a few days for observation just to make sure. So, you're the good Samaritan who called 911 and stayed with her until the police and paramedics arrived. I understand you were able to give the police a pretty good description of the SOB's van that slammed into her."

"Yeah, I'd been driving behind the jerk for several miles, when he ran a stop sign and rammed that poor woman's car and then took off. I couldn't believe it," Joe said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Amazing isn't it?" Anne added, nodding her head in agreement. "You'd be surprised the stories we hear from the police and paramedics when they bring accident victims in. She's lucky you were there and that lunatic didn't do more damage then he did."

Ann studied Joe's tired expression, concern showing in her blue eyes. "Why don't you go home now Joe, and get yourself some rest, you look really beat. There's nothing more you can do. She'll be well taken care of."

Joe wearily rose out of his chair and stretched slightly.

"Yeah, I guess I should. Thanks, Anne, good to see you again. Hey, don't be a stranger. Drop by sometime when you get the chance." He kissed her cheek lightly and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Good night, Joe." Anne watched Joe amble down the hallway, her lips formed in a slightly sad smile. Her eyes grew misty. "Have a good life, Joe Dawson."

Walking down the hall, he knew she wouldn't drop by. He was still a Watcher and MacLeod was still an Immortal.

Stepping outside, he looked up at the sky. The first golden rays of sunlight were beginning to streak the bluish pink sky. Man, what a night. He'd liked to go home and sleep for a week.

He didn't sleep for a week of course. But he did take his time going in the next day.

By the time he strolled in, the sound system had been repaired and Mike was already setting up the bar for the first customers of the evening. A Delta Blues song on the juke box played softly in the background.

"Thanks, Mike. The sound system sounds great."

"No problem, Joe. How's your head?"

"Better!"

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Joe thought about the accident and the injured woman, but didn't mention it to Mike or anyone else. It was back to business as usual.

Etta Powell's Trio was booked to start the week after next. He still had to have posters and flyers printed up. Maybe Richie would give him a hand.

Richie took the poster and flyer artwork to the printers, picked them up after they were printed, and saw that they were distributed. Anytime Joe Dawson needed anything, Richie Ryan was always available. He owed him big time.

In the weeks that followed, Joe was usually too busy to think about the night of the accident thanks to Etta Powell's Trio doubling his business. Although he did wonder now and then how the woman was doing.

*****

Wiping off the bar after a customer left, he didn't pay any attention when another took his place.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Joe Dawson," the woman customer said, leaning forward to make herself heard above the music and noisy conversation.

Without looking up, Joe answered, as he finished wiping off the bar. "You found him. What can I do for you?"

There was a pause. "Well actually, you've already done a quite lot for me, Mr. Dawson. Now I'd like to do something for you."

Joe stopped wiping the bar and looked up, a frown creasing his forehead. He stared at the woman for a moment before it dawned on him who she was — the woman from the car accident.

She saw the look of confusion and then recognition play across his face.

"I probably look a little different than the last time you saw me," she said and smiled.

He was a Watcher, an observer. Now he was observing her. Taking mental notes. Mid to late thirties. Long auburn hair, fair skin, aqua marine blue eyes. Pretty. Not drop dead gorgeous, but pretty.

She cleared her throat slightly.

Joe realized he was staring. "Sorry." He mentally gave himself a shake.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again. Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure. I'll have a Bloody Mary without the celery, please."

Joe mixed her drink and placed it on a coaster in front of her.

"So, of all the gin joints, in all the world, how did you happen to come into mine?" he said with a gleam in his eye.

She laughed and leaned forward again.

"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Dawson, I asked Dr. Lindsey if she knew who the good Samaritan was the night of the accident, because I personally wanted to thank him. She said she knew you and if I was really serious, she would give me your name and address. My name is Beth Holliday, by the way," she said as she held out her hand.

"Glad to meet you, Beth Holliday, and call me Joe." Joe clasped her hand lightly.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to contact you. You must think I'm an ungrateful piece of work."

"No, No, don't worry about it. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time."

Just then a man came up, put his arm around Beth's shoulders and asked if he could buy her a drink.

"Thanks, but I already have a drink," Beth replied, while removing the guy's arm from around her shoulders.

"Ah come on, honey, don't play hard to get." He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Look it's nothing personal, I'm sure you're a very nice guy. I'm just not interested, okay?"

"Yeah right. That's why you came in here alone." He made a grab for her arm.

Joe reached over the bar and grabbed the guy's lapel, jerking him against the bar. "You heard the lady. She's not interested. Either move on, or I'll have you thrown out."

"Yeah, well maybe the owner would have something to say about that. I spend a lot of money in this dump and-"

"Listen buddy, I am the owner, and I don't care how much money you spend in this dump, either move on or get out." Joe gave him another shake.

"It's up to you."

The man gripped Joe's hand, trying to pull himself loose. "All right, all right, I get the message."

Joe released him.

He straightened his clothes, than sneered at Beth as he turned to go. "You're not so hot in the looks department anyway, I was just doing you a favor by letting you think I was really interested."

With that parting salvo, he pushed his way through the crowd and out the door.

"Gee, I'm really crushed," Beth countered.

"Sorry about that, I—"

She held up her hand to halt his apology. "No problem. I did come in here alone, and I suppose some guys would see it as an open invitation for a one night stand."

Just then Etta Powell's sultry voice came over the sound system announcing the band would be taking a twenty minute break.

Joe leaned forward with a suggestion.

"Beth, why don't we sit in my office. It's quieter, more private, and you won't have to worry about getting hit on. "

She looked indecisive.

He winked and added. "I promise." Holding two fingers to his forehead, he added, "Scout's honor."

Beth smiled and nodded her consent.

Joe spoke to Mike and then motioned for Beth to meet him at the end of the bar.

Carrying her drink, Beth followed Joe as he cleared the way through the mingling crowd to his office. Escorting her inside, Joe turned and closed the door. Beth looked around while Joe cleared away newspapers and magazines from the low dark oak coffee table and sofa by the door.

"Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

The dark wood paneled walls were hung with inexpensive wildlife paintings, and decorative logo plaques from different beer manufacturers. Worn dark green carpeting covered the floor. A well used mahogany desk with a brass desk lamp sat across from the door with various stacks of papers covering the top. Behind the desk sat a wood swivel desk chair with padded brown leather seat and arms. Cardboard boxes bearing the names of several brands of liquor and beer, were stacked against the wall on the right. The faint smell of cigar smoke lingered in the air.

"This is nice, Joe." She could still hear muted voices coming through the door, but it was definitely quieter.

Joe turned and spread his arms indicating the room. "My home away from home." Beth sat down on the sofa, placing her drink and coaster on the coffee table, her purse on the floor beside her.

After stacking the newspapers and magazines on the boxes by the wall, Joe joined her. "So, you were saying, Anne Lindsey gave you my name."

"Yes, I hope you don't mind. "

"No, I'm glad she did. I've been wondering how you came out. Did the police ever catch the guy that hit you?"

"Oh they caught him. He only made it few blocks from the scene of the accident before the van's engine gave out. But, it's the usual scenario. Chronic alcoholic, driving without a license and no insurance. "

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

"Lucky for me, my insurance covered most of my hospital bills. The Cavalier was totalled. The insurance company said it would cost more to repair then it was worth. But in a way, I really didn't mind. I wouldn't have felt safe driving it again even if it would have been worth repairing. I bought a Chevy Blazer using the insurance check for a down payment. This time when I bought a car, I wanted something a little more substantial around me and I couldn't afford a tank."

They both laughed.

"I still flinch when I'm driving, and if someone even looks like they might be becoming towards me from the side..."

"How are you otherwise?"

"Fine. My concussion is gone, all the bumps and bruises have healed. I have a scar on my forehead from the cut, but it should fade with time. At least now I have an excuse when my train of thought gets derailed."

Joe smiled, and laughed quietly. He was starting to feel a very strong attraction towards Beth Holliday, with her lovely blue eyes and warm sense of humor.

"Joe, I want to thank you in someway for what you did for me. Please allow me to at least take you out for dinner or something."

"Beth, that's not necessary."

"It's very important to me, Joe Dawson. You're not one of those hard core macho types that feels insulted if a woman offers to pick up the check are you?"

"No ma'am. Just seeing you're alive and well, is thanks enough for me."

Beth sat back and thought for a moment.

"Well how about a business proposition then."

Seeing Joe's look of surprise, Beth clarified what she meant. Pulling her purse onto her lap. She carefully looked inside until she pulled out a business card case. Opening the case and selecting a card, she presented it to Joe.

Joe gazed at the ivory colored card. The intertwined, letters "BH" embossed in the center, gave the card an elegant look. Burgundy sans serif lettering read: Beth Holliday Freelance Graphic Designer. 4590 Lavalier Boulevard. Seacouver, Washington. (360) 555-5516.

Beth could see he was puzzled about why she gave him the card.

"You serve liquor, food and book musicians to play in your club right?"

"Right!"

"So, the next time you need artwork done, say for a menu or a booking Tah da, here I am. I'm a graphic designer. I'll design whatever artwork you need at no charge. Just give me a copy of it when it's printed for my portfolio, to show future clients."

"Beth, I—"

"It's strictly business. You get a very talented graphic designer to create fantastic artwork for your club. I get a printed sample of that same fantastic artwork, to wave under a perspective client's nose to convince him why he should hire me. What do you say Joe — deal?" Beth said as she extended her hand to shake on the deal.

Joe couldn't help but laugh, taking her hand. "Deal. You're quite a saleswoman."

"Sometimes I have to be. I work out of my home. There are times when I have to convince would-be clients, that just because I don't have a fancy agency, I can still give them quality work."

"That shouldn't be a problem. You sure convinced me"

Beth smiled and saluted him with her drink.

Etta's Trio was playing again. They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the music filtering through the door.

Beth finally broke the silence. "Etta's really something isn't she. I've been a fan of hers ever since she first came to Seacouver. I remember when I was in art school, my friends and I would stop in the different clubs around town, just to listen to her perform. Hearing her play brings back a lot of fond memories, I'm glad I came. Have you had the club long?"

"No. I've only had it for a couple of years. The last owner had a rat her unsavory reputation and it's taken me a while to rebuild the clientele."

Beth looked at her watch. It was getting late, after midnight. "I should be going." Standing up to leave she offered her hand to Joe. "It was nice meeting you, Joe. I'm looking forward to doing business with you. I will be doing business with you, right?."

Joe gently shook her hand and smiled. "You definitely will, Beth. I'll walk you to your car, it's late."

She nodded in agreement.

Joe escorted Beth through the crowd and outside to her dark red Blazer.

"Nice wheels."

"Yeah. they are, aren't they." Beth unlocked the door and climbed in. The turn of the ignition key brought the engine to life. Beth rolled down the window and smiled. "Good night, Joe."

"Good night, Beth."

Joe watched her drive out of the parking lot and waited until the taillights disappeared around a corner. Smiling to himself, as he walked back into the club. There was something happening here. 'Yep. they would most definitely being doing business together.'

The Etta Powell trio finished their run. A few weeks later, Joe hired a four piece combo to start the following month. They weren't as well known or as polished as Etta, but they had a local following and still would bring in a fair sized crowd.

True to his word, he gave Beth a call.

"Hello." A man's voice.

'Damn.'

"Beth Holliday please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Joe Dawson."

The man put his hand over the receiver mouthpiece, but Joe could hear him talking. "Beth, there's a Joe Dawson on the phone, do you want to take it?"

"Who?" She sounded distracted.

"Joe Dawson."

"Oh sure, thanks, Grant, I'll take it."

The man removed his hand as Beth took the receiver.

"Joe are you still there?"

"Yeah, still here. Did I call at a bad time?"

"No. Grant and I were just about to take a break. Grant's a freelance copy writer, we work together on projects sometimes."

Joe was relieved. "I decided to take you up on your offer. I just booked a new band and I'll need a newspaper ad and posters made up for advertising."

"Great. We're just finishing up an ad campaign for a car dealership. How soon do you need the artwork done?"

"The week after next. Is that a problem?"

"No, uh, uh. When would you liked to get together to talk about it?"

"I'm taking Thursday night off. I was wondering if I could stop by then."

"Sure, um, let me check. Thursday's fine, Joe. Why don't you come by my place around seven. I'll make us a light supper and we can discuss your advertising then."

Joe was pleasantly surprised. "Do you always ask clients to stop by for dinner?"

"Not if I'm trying to impress them. They might think my art ability lacks as much as my cooking."

Joe laughed.

"Seriously Joe, I'd really like you to come for dinner."

"I'd like that, Beth. Is there anything I can bring?"

"Well, a bottle of wine would be welcomed. "

"You got it. See you Thursday at seven, bye, Beth."

"Bye, Joe."

*****

Joe left his place a little early. He didn't want to have to ask for directions. He knew the city well, but there were still some areas he wasn't completely familiar with.

He found her house without any trouble. A Tudor style with leaded stain glass windows, front porch and surrounded by a four foot hedge. Beth's dark red Blazer was parked in the driveway. Joe pulled up behind the it, killed the engine and stepped out, grabbing the bottle of wine off the seat. The porch light was on. He made his way up the stairs and rang the bell.

Dressed in navy trousers, gray single breasted sport coat and navy shirt, he looked very attractive to Beth when she answered the door.

Dressed for comfort, she wore loose fitting lime green silk slacks and an oversized silk shirt. Her long auburn hair was held back by a lime green and turquoise patterned scarf.

"Wow, don't you look handsome. Come in, Joe." Joe blushed at the compliment, as he handed her the wine. Beth smiled, taking the wine and motioning towards the living room to her left. "Make yourself comfortable, while I put this on ice."

It was a welcoming room. Walnut book cases lined the walls. A fire glowed in the stone fireplace sending out its warmth. Joe settled himself down on the floral overstuffed sofa. On the coffee table lay an assortment of beautifully photographed art books of different artists. Picking up a book on Salvador Dali paintings, Joe started to page through the pages of surrealistic painting photographs.

In a few minutes, Beth reappeared in the doorway. "Dinner's ready. It's nothing fancy. Angel hair pasta with a light seafood cream sauce and tossed garden salad. Sound okay?"

"Sounds fine, Beth."

"I hope you don't mind eating in the kitchen. I turned what used to be the dining room into my studio."

Passing the studio on the way to the kitchen, the glow of the computer monitor screen caught Joe's attention. A colorful abstract design screen saver cast a rainbow of colors around the room.

Two places were set on the table and ivory colored candles gave the room a soft glow. Linen napkins were neatly folded beside each plate. The only other light, was a small lamp perched on top of the refrigerator.

"Sit down, Joe. I'll be there in a minute."

"Can I do anything to help?" He said.

"Why don't you pour the wine. The wine glasses are in the cupboard above the counter on the right."

"Can do."

Joe poured the wine, while Beth lifted the pasta into a large serving bowl and poured on the seafood sauce. Grabbing the bowl of salad from the counter on her way, she set everything on the table.

Joe pulled out Beth's chair. "Madam."

"Thank you, sir." Making a small curtsey, Beth sat down.

Dinner conversation consisted of the usual getting to know you small talk. Where they grew up, went to school, their work. Before he knew it, dinner was over. Joe offered to help Beth with the dishes, but she shooed him away, saying she'd do them later.

It was time to talk business.

Beth led the way back down the hall into her well equipped studio. Joe gazed around the room taking note of all the artist's materials and equipment.

"This is quite a layout, I'm impressed."

"It's taken me a few years but it's starting to take shape. I've been slowly upgrading my equipment. When I first started out, most of the artwork I created was done by hand. Now most of it's done on the computer. My clients are usually small businesses like yours. I'm fortunate to be able to work out of my home. Office space can be very expensive."

Looking around, Joe was curious. "These vintage Tudors are usually expensive, how did you manage to snag this one?"

Beth frowned slightly. "My parents left to me. Taking a look around the room, she sighed. My mother passed away about eleven years ago, my father about seven months later. "I really love this house, I have a lot of happy memories here."

"I'm sorry Beth, I didn't mean to bring up unhappy memories."

"Hey, I'm fine, it was a long time ago." Beth smiled, a little embarrassed at revealing so much of herself to a relative stranger. "Well, enough of that, we should start discussing the type of advertising you're interested in. That is why you came, not to listen to me rattling on about myself."

After that, the conversation was strictly business. Joe gave her the name of the band and the dates they'd be appearing. She promised to have layouts for him to look at by Monday.

They finished their discussion, Joe glanced at his watch. It was going on eleven o'clock, he stood up to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Beth, it's getting late and I should be going." Then he remembered. Reaching inside his jacket pocket he pulled out a neatly wrapped square shaped package and handed it to Beth.

"I almost forgot. I thought you might like this."

Beth took the package and unwrapped it. It was Etta Powell's CD. Personally autographed.

Beth was both touched and stunned. "Joe, you didn't have to do this...but I'm awfully glad you did. Thank you."

Putting her hand against his shoulder she reached up and gave him a light, lingering kiss.

"You're welcome.

They gazed into each other's eyes for several seconds until Joe broke contact. "Well, like I said, I'd better be going." Joe didn't want to read too much into the situation. He was definitely beginning to feel too much for Beth Holliday, too fast.

Beth walked him to the door. "I'll call you Monday about the layouts. We can decide then when it would be convenient for me to stop by. Good night, Joe," she said smiling.

"Good night, Beth." Joe made his way down the steps and climbed in the LeSabre.

Beth waited until Joe drove away, then switched off the porch light.

*****

Monday rolled around. It was almost seven and Beth hadn't called. Joe was feeling anxious, then the phone rang.

"Yeah, Joe's."

"Joe...Beth. I'm sorry I'm running late. One of my client's was dissatisfied with the printer's proofs for his brochures. I spent all day trying to convince him not to cancel his order. He finally relented and is giving me a chance to straighten it out with the printer. I've got your layouts ready. If it's not too late, I can drop by and we can go over them."

"It's not too late Beth, I'll be in my office."

"Great. I'll see you, in say, fifteen minutes."

Joe hung up the phone, looked at his watch, then went in his office to wait for Beth.

Beth arrived at eight o'clock on the dot.

He was sitting at his desk reading the newspaper when she knocked on the door. He got up and let her in.

She looked flushed.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, Joe. I could wring that guy's neck. He's such a pain in the neck. If he weren't one of my regular reliable paying customers, I'd tell him to go find someone else to torment."

"Hey, no problem. I deal with the public too, remember. I know how hard some people are to deal with."

"Thanks for understanding," she said as she sat her portfolio on his desk and pulled out the ad layouts..

Joe motioned towards the sofa. "Why don't we sit on the sofa, we can spread them out on the coffee table."

Following him to the sofa they sat down and Beth spread out the artwork. There were four different layouts consisting of different styles of type and artistic interpretations. She sat quietly letting him inspect each one, answering any questions he might have. He was impressed with her range of ideas. Finally, he selected one. She slipped the others into her portfolio and made notations of the changes he suggested on the one chosen.

"You're a very talented lady."

Beth acted surprised. "You had doubts?"

"No, I..."

"Relax Joe," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "I was only kidding. I can have the revisions done and the finished artwork back by Friday."

"Sounds good." They sat quietly for a moment. Then a thought occurred to Joe. "Have you eaten?"

"No, not since lunch. I've been too busy making phone calls and smoothing ruffled feathers."

"Would you like to go to dinner, with me?"

"I'd be delighted. Just let me put this stuff in my car."

Picking up her purse and portfolio, Joe escorted her to the parking lot. Beth placed the portfolio in the back seat of the Blazer. Joe suggested they take his car to the restaurant.

Part 4

LaRosa's, was a small, but excellent, family owned Italian restaurant not far from Joe's club.

The hostess seated them at a corner table towards the back. It was nice, semi-private, with assorted potted plants separating them from the other diners. Soft instrumental music with an Italian flavor played in the background.

The waiter soon appeared, and left their menus. They sat quietly talking over their selections and a few minutes later he returned and took their orders.

Beth unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap while looking around the restaurant. "This is really a charming place, Joe, do you come here often?"

"Yeah, the owner is a friend of mine. I stop in every couple of weeks or so." He didn't mention that the owner was a fellow Watcher.

The waiter reappeared with their Caesar salads, loaf of homemade garlic bread and the bottle of wine Joe ordered.

They spent the rest of the evening getting to know more about each other.

Joe hadn't felt this comfortable talking with someone for a long time. Beth was warm and funny, and seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. It wasn't just idle conversation. He liked the way she looked directly into his eyes and really listened.

"How did you happen to wind up in Seacouver, Joe? You mentioned you grew up in Chicago the other night at dinner."

Joe glossed over his experiences in Vietnam, he didn't like talking about them to anyone. It was a turbulent, painful time for himself and the whole country. When Joe mentioned losing his legs to a land mine, Beth reached out and held his hand, and sat quietly and listened as he talked about his rehabilitation and learning to walk again with artificial limbs.

"After coming home from the war, I was restless and I'll admit a little bitter. Vietnam vets were not very popular back then, even ones wounded in action. I finally took off with some buddies of mine and we knocked around the country for a while. We found odd jobs here and there, but after a few years that got old. We were here in Seacouver at the time. My friends wanted to move on but, I decided it was time to stay and do something constructive with my life. I liked the area and the people. I'd been working in a bookstore and the owner decided to retire, so I asked him if he'd being willing to sell it to me. We finally settled on a price, I got a G.I. loan and bought the place." He didn't tell her it was after he established himself in the bookstore that he contacted Ian Bancroft about becoming a Watcher.

"How did you become the owner of a Blues club?"

Joe took a sip of wine, stalling while trying to think of a way to explain his sudden change of occupation without mentioning the Watchers and MacLeod finding out about them.

"I've always loved R & B, Blues and Jazz music. When I was younger, my friends and I used to hang out at the small clubs around Chicago. I picked up the guitar when I was a teenager and taught myself to play. Over the years learning more from the musicians I met. It was always just a dream in the back of my mind, to own a club someday. I never thought I'd actually do anything about it. After owning the bookstore for many years, I decided it was time for a change. Maybe it was the middle aged crazies. Anyway, I had been sitting in and playing with some of the bands in the local clubs around town."

Beth smiled. "And..."

"And, then I heard through the musician's grapevine that a club was for sale. I decided to take a chance, and well, as they say, the rest is history."

"You're a very amazing man, Joe Dawson. I'm very glad I met you, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances."

Joe smiled, added teasingly. "I'm mighty proud to have made your acquaintance, ma'am."

"Do you play often at the club, Joe? I'd love to hear sometime."

"Oh, I sit in now and then. Tell you what, I'll reserve a special table for you next time I decide to sit in. But, enough about me, tell me about yourself, Beth."

"Oh, it's not all that interesting. I've lived in Seacouver all my life. I was an only child. After trying for years unsuccessfully to have children my parents decided to adopt. In their forties by then, they opted for an older child. I six years old when they adopted me from an orphanage. After being in the foster care system, I was thrilled to have a home. They were very loving, supportive and giving parents. When they died I could have sold the house for a nice profit, but I decided to keep it and converted the dining room into my studio. I've always loved to draw. When I was little, I used to make lovely drawings in crayon on my mother's newly papered walls. I'm afraid she wasn't very impressed with my drawing ability at the time." Beth laughed.

Looking at Beth, Joe could picture a little red haired girl, her tongue tucked in the corner of her mouth, carefully drawing her masterpiece.

"I studied graphic arts at the Seacouver Academy of Fine Arts, and after graduation I started working in the art department of a printing company. Slowly I worked my way up into bigger and more well known art agencies. I thought about going to Los Angeles or New York, but like you, I like the area. Finally I decided to bite the bullet and started my own business about five years ago." Beth paused, looked at Joe and then quietly asked. "Do you feel that something special is happening here?"

Joe took both of her hands in his and gazed intensely into her eyes and smiled. "Beth Holliday, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

*****

Afraid of tempting the fates, in the following weeks their daily lives continued as before. Joe managed the club, while Beth worked in her studio and called on clients during the day. But their nights and weekends were spent together behind locked doors in each other's arms.

When Joe played and sang it was only for Beth. Beth was deeply moved by the heart and soul he poured into his music.

After Lauren was killed by Immortal John Durgan, Joe didn't believe he could feel this way again. But Beth was special, she filled an empty place in his heart that no else had. He knew eventually he'd have to tell her about the Watchers and Immortals. He had already explained his Watcher tattoo as something leftover from his days as a drifter. He hated lying to Beth, but right now all that mattered was their growing love and trust for each other. He didn't want to take a chance on losing her.

At last, confident in their love for each other, they decided it was time to share their happiness with others.

*****

"Hello."

"Mac, it's Joe..."

"Well, this is a surprise. You sure have made yourself scarce lately."

Yeah, that's why I'm calling. Are you free Saturday night. I have someone I'd like you and Richie to meet."

Mac was stunned. He had no idea Joe was seeing anyone new.

"Mac?"

"Now I'm really surprised. How long has this been going on?"

"I met her about two months ago. I've been leery about telling anyone because it happened so fast and I was afraid it wouldn't last. But now, I'd really like you and Richie to have dinner with us on Saturday at the Rosewood, so you both can meet her."

Duncan gave a low whistle. "The Rosewood, this must be serious."

Joe laughed. "So, what do you say, Mac?"

"I'd love to, Joe."

"Say about seven? I'll call Richie."

"I'll be there."

Joe called Richie. He was just as surprised as Duncan. But, he said he would be there for sure Saturday night.

Richie was so excited he called Duncan. "Whoa, Mac, did you know about Joe and this woman?"

"No, Rich, I'm just as surprised as you. She must really be something special."

"Yeah, well I don't know about you but, I can hardly wait until Saturday night to meet this mystery woman of Joe's."

*****

The Rosewood was considered one of most elegant and expensive restaurants in Seacouver.

Joe and Beth arrived early and were seated in the lobby waiting for Duncan and Richie. Joe was dressed in a suit and tie, and Beth wore a chic ankle length, form fitting gown, they made an attractive couple.

Beth was nervous about meeting Joe's friends for the first time. She went over in her mind the sketchy details Joe had told her about Duncan and Richie. Joe mentioned meeting Anne Lindsey, through Duncan as a result of their relationship, which ended a couple of years ago.

Joe was fidgeting with his tie, when he saw Duncan entering the lobby and grabbed Beth's hand to get her attention.

They both rose as Duncan, dressed in a dark blue double breasted suit and stripped tie for the special occasion, approached.

As Duncan neared, he stopped briefly and nonchalantly looked around.

Joe knew that look and held his breath. Not now, not tonight.

After taking a glance around the lobby Duncan looked at Joe and Beth for a moment. Seeing Joe's apprehension, he smiled and came forward.

"Joe."

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. Not tonight, not now.

Joe introduced Beth and Duncan.

Duncan grasped Beth's outstretched hand, and murmured quietly. "So you're the mystery woman Joe's been seeing. It's a pleasure to meet you, Beth." Duncan felt the slight tremor in Beth's hand.

"I'm glad to meet you Duncan."

Joe spotted Richie's suited figure over Duncan's shoulder, just entering the restaurant.

"Richie's here," Joe informed them. Duncan was already turning around; he knew Richie was here.

Richie's face broke into a wide grin when he spotted Joe and Duncan.

His smile faded slightly, as he too stopped and surveyed the lobby. Richie looked at Duncan. Duncan made a slight negative shake of his head, and Richie started forward again.

"Hi ya', Joe, good to see you again." He looked over at Beth and smiled.

Before Joe could introduce them. Richie introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Richie. Richie Ryan"

Beth shook his hand and introduced herself. "Beth Holliday, nice to meet you Richie."

Joe was eager to be seated. "Now that were all here, I'll have them seat us." Joe motioned, to the Maitre 'D that they were ready to be seated for dinner.

Joe and Beth preceded Duncan and Richie into the lavish dining room.

Richie was anxious to talk to Mac. "Mac..."

"Later, Richie, this is Joe and Beth's night"

"Yeah right, later."

Dinner was a success. Duncan was his usual charming self and Richie delighted Beth with his youthful enthusiasm. Joe told them how he and Beth met, leaving out Anne Lindsey's part in their reunion, not wanting to bring up painful memories for Duncan.

Richie was filled with curiosity. "So, Joe, how come you never mentioned Beth before?"

"Because, Richie, I was afraid if Beth met you or MacLeod I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Listen, Joe, the way Beth looks at you, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Mac and I wouldn't stand a chance, right, Beth?"

Beth turned to Joe and smiled. "I'm afraid so Richie. My attention is definitely somewhere else."

Time passed quickly. Conversation flowed naturally. Anyone watching them would have thought they had known each other for years.

When it was time to leave. Duncan insisted on picking up the check. At first Joe protested, but seeing the stubborn set of the Scotsman's chin, finally conceded and they rose to leave. Beth excused herself to go the ladies room, saying she would meet them in the lobby.

Duncan gripped Joe's shoulder and shook his hand. "She's a charming and beautiful woman, Joe. I'm happy for you."

Richie shook Joe's hand. "I can see she really loves Joe, you're a lucky guy."

"Thanks, Duncan, Richie."

"Well, I think it's time we were leaving. " Duncan motioned to Richie. "Good night, Joe. Come on, Richie. It's time to go."

Richie finally caught on, and he and Duncan left.

If Joe noticed the significant glances Richie had been giving Duncan during dinner, he didn't say anything.

Once outside. "Mac, did you feel it? What are we gonna do? We've got to tell him, Mac."

"Not now, Richie."

MacLeod gave the parking attendant his ticket for the Thunderbird.

"But, Mac, he's got to know. She was lucky last time. What if it happens again. How is Joe going to handle it, when he finds out she's could be one of us someday? And Beth, what about Beth? She's got to know, Mac. She's got to be ready when it happens."

Before MacLeod could answer, the parking attendant returned with the Thunderbird. Mac discretely palmed him a ten dollar tip, and motioned for Richie to get in.

They were headed down Macmillan Avenue before Mac answered.

"Richie, it may never happen. They may live out their entire lives together and never have to know the truth."

"Yeah but, Mac, if we sensed her future Immortality then other Immortals will too. They may not wait until she dies to take her head. What then, Mac? That would kill Joe."

"I don't know, Richie. I can't do this right now. I need time to think it over. Obviously none of us was expecting this to happen. We just came to meet Joe's new girlfriend. We've got to think about what's best for Joe and Beth. This isn't something we can rush into without examining all the options. Let it be for now." A thought occurred to Mac. "There is one question you could answer for me, Richie."

"Yeah, shoot!"

"If you had it to do over again, would you have wanted to know that there was a possibility that one day you could become an Immortal?"

Richie sat silently, looking at the buildings and people as they passed by.

"Let's turn it around, Mac. Why didn't you tell me what my future was? If I had known, I could have started training earlier. I could have been better prepared to defend myself, if and when I crossed over."

"Because, Richie, I wanted you to have as normal a life as possible. Like I said, it might never have happened."

"But, Mac, this thing we have inside of us, it's like, like having a cancer gene, or some genetic defect. If we're warned ahead of time we could prepare ourselves. Yeah, it may never happen, but look at Beth, if she would have been killed in that car accident she would already be an Immortal. She'd be scared witless. Not knowing what had happened to her or what to do about it. I at least had you, I already knew what to expect, and it still scared the hell out of me. Maybe it would been better for both of them, if she had been killed in the accident and had become Immortal. Joe wasn't in love with her then."

"That may be true, but she wasn't and that brings us back to our dilemma. Beth may some day become an Immortal. Do we have the right to ruin their chances for a normal life because of what might happen?"

Duncan pulled into the alley behind the dojo, and switched off the engine. They sat quietly, both struggling with their own thoughts, staring out the window, but seeing nothing.

"I think at least Joe has the right to know Mac. He's a Watcher. He knows the drill. Then it's Joe's decision whether he tells Beth or not."

"God, I hate this." Duncan slammed his fist on the steering wheel. "They're so happy, so much in love. This could drive them apart forever."

"I know, Mac, I know. But if something happens to Beth and she becomes Immortal and Joe's not expecting it, it could drive them apart anyway."

Duncan rubbed his temples, grabbed the key out of the ignition and started getting out of the car. "Come on, Richie. I can't deal with this anymore tonight. I'll call Joe tomorrow and ask him to come over and we'll all discuss it then."

"Okay, Mac," Richie agreed quietly.

They both climbed out of the Thunderbird with heavy hearts and made their way upstairs to Duncan's loft.

****

It was ten o'clock in the morning. A light mist was falling, the gray light filtering through the windows cast gloomy shadows on the two men sitting at the stainless steel counter. Turning on the lights hadn't lifted the depressing atmosphere. They were both making an effort to eat breakfast. But, even Richie's usually ravenous appetite had waned. Giving up, Duncan threw his silverware on his plate, got up and set his plate in the sink. Richie looked up, but kept pushing his food around on his plate still trying to make an effort.

At eleven thirty they were still discussing the pros and cons of telling Joe about Beth, when the phone rang.

It was Joe. Duncan's heart sank.

"Hi, Mac. Beth wanted me to call you and thank you for last night. She really liked you and Richie."

"Thanks, Joe, you know the feeling is mutual. Um, Joe..."

"Yeah, Mac."

"Have you told Beth about being a Watcher yet?"

Richie laid down his fork and was watching Mac, his body tense.

There was a long pause.

"No, I haven't, I know I'll have to eventually, but I want to put it off as long as possible, Mac."

Mac looked at Richie and shook his head, no.

Richie relaxed.

"I understand, Joe. I was wondering, could you come over this afternoon before going into the club. Richie and I need your advice...it ...concerns the Watchers."

Joe took a deep breath and exhaled. "Yeah, sure Mac, say about four thirty?"

"Four thirty, see you then."

*****

The rest of the day was spent in tense anticipation and dread.

Then they heard it. The hum of the elevator. Joe was on his way up.

Richie was lounging on the sofa, tossing around a pillow, when he heard the elevator. Catching the pillow, he enfolded it within his arms and clutched it against his stomach.

Duncan stood with his hips leaning back against the stainless counter, arms crossed against his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, waiting for Joe.

The elevator stopped. Joe lifted the gate and stepped out. Glancing from Duncan to Richie and back again.

"What's got you two looking so grim?"

Duncan straightened. "Come in, Joe. Would you like a drink?"

"At four thirty in the afternoon, this must be bad. Maybe I'd better."

"Richie, get Joe and me a bourbon and a beer for yourself."

Richie rose without a word as Joe sat down on the sofa. Going to the liquor cabinet, he pulled out the bottle of bourbon and two glasses and preceded to pour the drinks. Handing one to Joe and one to Duncan before walking to the kitchen area for the beer.

Duncan sat down in a chair opposite Joe and put his drink on the coffee table. Richie hovered behind the other chair, holding the beer between his hands, waiting for Mac to drop the bombshell.

Leaning foreword and resting his forearms on his knees, Duncan cleared his throat and looked out the window rather than face Joe. "There's something we have to tell you."

Joe took a large sip of his drink, feeling uneasy. "Just say it."

Duncan glanced up at Richie and then at Joe. Clearing his throat again, "There's no easy way to say this, Joe. Beth is a Pre-Immortal."

Joe looked at one, and then the other as if they were stock staring mad. Then he laughed nervously. "This is a joke right, guys?"

Duncan, looked straight at Joe and shook his head. "No, Joe, I'm sorry. It's not a joke. We'd never joke about a thing like this. Richie and I both sensed it when we entered the restaurant last night. Beth is a Pre-Immortal."

Joe still wasn't buying it. "Maybe it wasn't Beth. There were a lot of people waiting in the lobby last night. Maybe it was someone standing near us. Maybe..."

"Joe, the feeling was there all evening, all through dinner. I..."

Joe slammed his drink down on the coffee table and stood up so fast, he almost lost his balance. He glared at one and then the other.

"I don't believe this. You're both crazy." He was shouting now, pacing back and forth, using his cane to emphasize his words. "You've been going through this Immortal garbage so long, the two of you are paranoid. I don't believe you. It's a damn lie, it's a mistake!" Then another thought occurred to him, lost in his denial. "I know. You're jealous, jealous because I finally found someone to love me, someone I can have a normal life with. Something the two of you will never have." Joe started towards the elevator. "I'm not staying here and listening to anymore of this crap."

Duncan sprang to his feet.

Richie stood anchored to the floor stunned by Joe's reaction.

Duncan grabbed at Joe's arm trying to stop him. "Joe, listen to yourself. After what we've all been through together, do you honestly believe Richie and I are that petty? Don't you realize how it's tearing me up inside to tell you...to hurt you like this?"

In an effort to break free, Joe swung his arm, his cane catching Duncan across the temple, knocking the Immortal to the floor, just barely catching himself with his cane before almost falling down on top of him.

"Geez, Joe, that's enough." Richie rushed forward, pushing Joe aside, not caring where he fell.

Richie bent down next to Duncan. He was out cold.

Joe had landed on the sofa. His cane lay on the floor. Staring down at Duncan, he felt like he was going insane. Maybe this was just a nightmare. He'd wake up with Beth beside him, and everything would be just like it was before. Before he came here and heard those hideous words coming out of MacLeod's mouth. Beth couldn't be one them, not Beth. He shook his head in denial.

Richie glared up at Joe. "If you're through going berserk, help me get him on the bed."

Joe hesitated for a moment, then pulled himself forward, picked up his cane and stood up to help Richie. Between the two of them they managed to half lift, half drag Duncan to the bed. Richie covered him with a blanket. There was no telling how long he'd be out.

Joe walked back to the sofa and sat down. Resting his forearms on his thighs, he hung his head and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes.

"I thought you were leaving." Richie ground out as he passed by Joe and sat down on the chair across from him.

"Richie, God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit him, you've got to believe me. I don't know if I can handle this. I've been a Watcher all these years and now I find out I've fallen in love with an Immortal."

"Don't you think we knew what a shock it would be? That's why we agonized over this, all night. At first Mac didn't want to tell you. He wanted you and Beth to have a happy, normal life together. I'm the one that convinced him it was better to know. I've been there, done that, remember, Joe?"

Joe wearily rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands again. "Yeah, Richie, I remember." He felt like he was one hundred years old.

"Think, Joe, Beth must have said something about her past, her family."

Then Beth's own words came back to him. "They adopted me from an orphanage when I was six years old." She was a foundling. She never knew her real parents. Joe's stomach turned over. It was true. He slumped back against the sofa, laid his head against the back and closed his eyes.

"You're right, she did mention being adopted. I just didn't make the connection until now." Joe sat forward again. "I'm a Watcher, Richie, I know about Immortals, but Pre-Immortals are an unknown factor. We can find out about Immortals and assign Watchers to keep track of them. But you're the only ones that can spot a Pre-Immortal."

"It doesn't have to be that bad, Joe. She's not Immortal yet. Like Mac said, it might never happen. You and Beth could live out the rest of your lives like everyone else. Loving, arguing, and growing old together. It's up to you, Joe, whether you tell Beth or not, that's your decision. Mac and I just thought you should know, to be prepared, just in case. You and Beth are crazy about each other, Joe, that doesn't have to change. Tessa knew who Mac is, it didn't stop her from loving him, staying with him. She knew they'd never have kids or belong to the P.T.A., but she didn't care as long as she and Mac were together."

Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"Yeah, maybe you and Mac are right. It's not the end of the world. It's just such a shock. It changes my concept of who she is."

"I know, Joe, I know. But that doesn't mean she's not the same person, or that you'll love her any less?"

Joe looked out the window and shook his head. "No, Richie, I love Beth too much. I can't turn my back on her now, and just walk away."

"Give it a chance, Joe. Give you and Beth both a chance. That's all Mac and I want for for you.'"

They heard a moan. Duncan was coming around.

Richie went to Duncan as he struggled to sit up. "You okay, big guy?"

Duncan moaned again, and sat up slowly. The spot over his left temple was still a little swollen and slightly black and blue.

"I think so...Joe...?"

"Is still here. He's calmed down. We've been talking."

"And?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself."

Richie helped Duncan stand up. He swayed a little, shaking his head to clear it.

With Richie keeping a watchful eye, Mac walked over to where Joe was sitting.

Joe started to stand, Duncan motioned him back down.

"Joe winched when he saw the side of Duncan's face. I'm sorry, Mac, I didn't mean to hit you, it was an accident."

Duncan eyed Joe with one raised eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"If you want me to leave, I wouldn't blame you."

Duncan shook his head negatively and sat down. "Richie tells me you've been talking."

"Yeah, I know from some of the things Beth's told me about herself that you're right. I just didn't want to believe it. It's funny isn't it, no matter how hard I try to change my life, it still comes back to Watchers and Immortals. It's like a song I heard once, 'All My Life's A Circle.' I don't remember any more of the lyrics, just the message. No matter how far we travel or make changes in our lives, we always come full circle back to where we started. I'm really sorry Mac, it just hit too close to home this time."

"You know Richie and I want only the best for you and Beth."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I lost my head,...well at least figuratively." He added at seeing Duncan's eyebrows raise in reaction to his ill-chosen words. Joe tentatively offered his hand. "Friends?"

Standing, Duncan took Joe's hand and pulled him forward into a firm embrace, patting him on the shoulder. "Friends."

Turning from Duncan to Richie. Joe again offered his hand. "How about you, Richie?"

"You know it. Best of luck, Joe."

Joe smiled slightly, turned and made his way to the elevator. Stepping inside, he gave them a salute, closed the gate and was gone.

Richie turned to Duncan. "What do you think he'll do?"

Duncan shrugged. "What's right for them."

*****

A week later, Joe called.

"Hi, Mac. Beth and I are going away for a while, I'm not sure for how long. I didn't tell her, Mac. I couldn't. Like you said, it might never happen. If it does, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I'd like to ask a favor...If it does happen, if Beth becomes an Immortal, would you be there to help her through it?"

"You've got my promise, Joe."

"Tell Richie good bye for us, will you, he wasn't home when I called and we're on our way to the airport.

"Do you need a lift?"

"Thanks, Mac, but it's better this way. Goodbye, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"Goodbye, Joe."

Duncan hung up the phone and smiled. Looks like Joe Dawson has a new Watcher assignment.

The End

Author's Note: "All My Life's A Circle" is an actual song. Unfortunately like Joe, I can only remember the title and message, but not anymore of the lyrics, or the artist or artists who recorded it. I chose the song title because it suited the plot of my story. Comments welcome. But, like another Immortal once said. (Elvis) "Don't be cruel." Ah thank you, thank you very much. Whatever typos or bad grammar you come across are my full responsibility. I tried to catch everything but, I weren't no English major.

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