The Highlander Characters used here are the property of Rysher Entertainment and Davis/Panzer productions.All other character not part of Highlander are mine. All song lyrics are also mine.

You'd Better Watch Out

by Kit Mason

It took longer than usual for Joe Dawson to lock up his blues club on the night before Christmas.

He didn't have a good reason for hanging around, but he didn't want to go home to an empty house. Oh, he could go over to Duncan's apartment, or drop in to visit Richie, but he was sure that in either case he'd probably be interrupting some romantic doings that would be much better without his presence.

It was snowing outdoors, just enough to make the trees look pretty in the light from the streetlamps. As he started out the front door and turned to lock it, a movement in the shadows next to him made him tense, and move his cane defensively to block what might come.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," said the creaky voice, as the figure moved out of its shelter, "but would you have a little soup or something to warm me this night? They've already closed the door at the mission; they're full up. I don't have a way to get across town to the Salvation Army, which is the only other place I know that will let me in. I promise I won't ask for anything else, just a little food."

It was a very old man, barely more than skin and bones dressed in rags, with enough grime worn-in on his skin that Joe couldn't tell what color he might be if he were clean. He was leaning on an old beat-up crutch and limping on one leg, which was wrapped in bandages. He looked up at Joe with rheumy eyes, sighed and said, "I'm sorry. You're probably going home to your family, and I don't want to hold you up. Your children will be expecting you."

Normally, Joe would take the derelicts and vagrants who showed up at his door to the two places the man had already mentioned. This happened a few times a month, and he had a standing arrangement with them that would let him bring someone over after hours if necessary. However, the mention of children made him pause.

"Old timer, I don't have any children or any family to go home to, but I think there's some leftover soup in the kitchen inside. If you like, I'll open the place up and heat some for both of us." He put his hand on the doorknob again, and saw the old man smile.

"You're very kind. Thank you. You'll be blessed for this." The man hobbled indoors as Joe threw on the lights over the bar. "Oh, what a lovely place. You must be very proud of it."

Joe looked around at the industrial decor, the bare tables and the hardwood bar. It wasn't much, but it was clean and well cared-for, and it was his, his place to do with as he wished. "I am pretty proud of it, at that. Sometimes I play guitar with the band, and we all have a good time. Have you ever come around when we're playing?"

The old man shook his head. "I don't usually get up this way. But I remember sitting in the park across the street one night last summer, and listening to someone play a really sweet blues guitar until almost dawn."

"That was me; I'm the only one who stays up that late here," Joe said. "I'm glad you liked it. You want to come into the kitchen with me and see what we've got? I know we had corn chowder and lentil soup earlier, and we should have something left of both of them. I could make you a sandwich too."

"Oh, the soup sounds just wonderful-either one." Suddenly the old man seemed to recollect where he was, and straightened a little. "I apologize, I should have told you my name. It's Niko."

"I'm Joe, Joe Dawson." He reached over to shake hands with the old man, who pulled off two layers of holey gloves to do so. A faded tattoo showed up inside Niko's wrist, a double circle surrounding a stylized ramshead.

Joe felt stunned. This old vagrant was a Watcher? What was he doing alone in the snow? As long as he'd been a Watcher, he'd known that the organization's pension plan would take care of him as well, when he could no longer follow Immortals. It didn't seem to have done so well for Niko, though.

The thought that his impromptu guest was a fellow Watcher spurred Joe to activity. He checked the pots of leftovers. There was enough lentil soup for two, and also some leftover Irish stew and soda bread. He combined the stew and soup and set them to heat while he sliced the bread and brought out the butter. He set a pot of coffee on to brew.

"Do you mind eating in the kitchen with me? It's warmer than out in the main room right now," Joe said apologetically.

"Oh, now, that'll be fine. Is there someplace I can wash up a little?" Niko looked around, trying to figure out where he could clean up without causing any problems. Joe showed him to the men's restroom out in the club. While he was there, Joe made a quick phone call to the one person he'd realized could help him out.

"Anne? It's Joe Dawson. I'm sorry to disturb you at home so late on Christmas Eve."

"It's only eight or so, Joe. What is it?"

"Well, I was closing up and I found an old man outside who asked me for some food. I saw the tattoo on his wrist-he's an old Watcher, and he's in pretty bad shape. Somehow he must have fallen through the cracks in the system; he's got a bad leg and who knows what else. You think you could come over here for just a couple of minutes and take a look at him?"

"Joe, it's not like I was going to be doing anything really exciting, you know. I'm just sitting here watching television, and if you call that exciting I think you're insane. I'll be over there in a little while."

"Thanks, Anne. I owe you."

"Get some food into him, and keep him warm. Oh, God, I sound as if you'd adopted a puppy, don't I? Anyway, I'll be there soon." She hung up.

Niko came out of the men's room looking considerably cleaner and a bit paler than before. His face looked dignified and friendly, and he moved a little more easily on his cane.

"Thank you, Joseph. You have wonderful hot water, did you know that? It felt so good, I can't tell you." His eyes moved from Joe to the telephone on the wall. "Who were you calling? The mission?"

"No, a friend of mine who's a doctor. I asked her to come over and look at your leg, and see if it can be made more comfortable."

"That was very kind of you, but I don't want to put your friend to any trouble. She'll have family of her own to see to, I'm sure."

"Not that I know of," Joe said. "Besides, I hear she likes my soup too."

"I'm sure she does. It smells wonderful from here."

Niko sat down at the little table in the kitchen where Joe and Mike and Terry ate when the club wasn't busy, and Joe filled two bowls with soup. He served the bowls, then sat down opposite Niko to eat as well, so the old man would feel that it was hospitality instead of a charity case. Niko surprised him by pausing for a moment for a silent prayer before starting to eat.

"What happened to your leg, if I may ask?" Joe said, taking a piece of bread and passing the rest to Niko.

The old man shrugged. "Nothing exciting. I slipped on a pile of wet leaves and landed the wrong way a month ago. It started to feel better, but the cold and damp always makes it hurt." He ate quickly, as if he expected the food to be taken away if he didn't eat it soon. Joe resolved to say nothing; he didn't want Niko to feel that he was unwelcome, or that Joe begrudged him the food.

"And what happened to yours?" Niko asked.

"Vietnam," Joe said. "It was a long time ago."

"You do pretty well for yourself. That's good. A lot of men wouldn't make anything of themselves after something like that."

"I had some help," Joe admitted, "but I think you know some of the same people I do." He deliberately turned his wrist over to show the Watcher symbol.

Niko nodded. "I do indeed. Some are good people; some are slimes. I think you're one of the good ones." He mopped up the last of the soup with a slice of bread and ate it. "I hear things, you know. I listen when people talk. Who notices an old man around the fringes of things? They say good things of you, Joseph."

"Thanks." Joe got up and refilled Niko's bowl; the soup would just go to waste in the day or so before they reopened on the 26th if someone didn't eat it. "How is it that the people we both know didn't take care of you? You must have been with them for a long time."

"Oh, thank you," Niko said, as Joe put the refilled bowl down in front of him. "You know how it is. They make their lists, and if someone doesn't show up on it for a while they figure they won't see him again."

"Who were you Watching?" Joe asked. Something about the old man seemed familiar, though he couldn't place it.

"Marianna Adams. She was a nurse with a unit in 'Nam that was overrun by the enemy, and she was captured." Niko shook his head, his lank hair following his movements a second late. "I took it seriously, this Watching, so I got myself captured and went with her to the camp. She managed to get out in a prisoner exchange in a few months, but they forgot about me." He ate steadily, as if to forget what he'd just said.

Joe put down his spoon and shook his head. He didn't want to think about what this man had been through as a prisoner of war, or what his life had been like since then. "How did you get out?"

"Walked." Niko looked up at him. "The camp was near the border of Cambodia; one of those ones they said didn't exist. I was there so long they sort of forgot about me; so one day I just walked off across the mountains into Thailand and eventually I showed up at a Red Cross aid station. Didn't have ID on me any more, so it took a while to sort out who I was. The Watchers were glad to have me back, but they didn't seem to have much use for me any more. Kept putting me in desk jobs, things I couldn't really do well. I finally walked away from it."

"And they let you go?" Joe was puzzled. The Watchers never let anyone just leave. He poured coffee for both of them and brought over the cream and sugar.

"Couldn't really stop me, now, could they?" Niko blinked at him mildly. "After all, if I could get away from the Vietcong, I could manage to avoid a few Watchers."

Someone was knocking at the front door. Joe went to let in Anne Lindsey, who shook the snow off her hair and draped her coat over a chair. "Where is he? It's not a night for anyone to be alone out there, Joe."

"I know. He's in the kitchen, telling me stories." Joe ushered her into the kitchen, where Niko sat with his hands wrapped around the cup of coffee as if it were a small heater. "Niko, this is my friend, Dr. Anne Lindsey."

Niko put his cup down, took Anne's hand and kissed it. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Anne."

Anne was flustered. "Thank you ... Niko, is it? Is that your first name or your last name?"

"Y'know, it's been so long since anyone asked me that, I'm not sure myself." He started to get up to offer Anne his seat. "Would you want to sit down?"

"No, thank you, Niko, I'll pull up another chair. I'd like to take a look at your leg, if you don't mind."

Niko nodded. "Anything to please a lovely lady. When are you due, ma'am, if I might ask?"

Joe shot Anne a surprised look. She ignored him. He thought back a few months, to the night when Anne had seen Duncan fall to his death in the opera house. She'd been suspended pending an investigation of deaths caused by Kalas to frame her, and Duncan's dying had been the last straw. When she came to the bar, distraught, drinking heavily, he'd been sincerely worried that she would do something desperate. He'd taken her home, stayed with her, comforted her in the only way that seemed to help at all-knowing all the time that Duncan lived but unable to tell her without Duncan's consent.

"Not for a long time yet, Niko. I'm surprised that you could tell."

Niko chuckled. "I've been around for a while. There's other signs before a woman gets big, and you've got 'em. Looks as if everything's going well for you."

"Thank you," Anne said firmly. "Now, if you'd let me look at that leg..."

The leg wasn't as bad as Joe had expected. It was swollen from arthritis, and bore evidence of a recent fall, but the joint moved freely. Although the bandages around Niko's knee had bloodstains, the knee itself was whole. Joe realized that the bandages were probably all that was keeping out the damp that made the arthritis worse. It was no surprise that they were old and stained, as it had been a long, damp autumn. Anne replaced them with new ones, but the old man insisted on tying the old ones over the outside for warmth, and she let him.

Anne checked over the rest of the old man, discreetly, as she worked. "How much can you see? You do have cataracts, you know."

Niko chuckled. "I've had 'em since I can remember. I can see enough."

"Except for your leg, you're in good shape for a man of your age, whatever that is," Anne said, as she folded up her stethoscope and put it away.

"You know, I'm not even sure myself how old I am any more. I've been in too many wars, I think."

A knock sounded at the front door, and Joe went to answer it. He found Adam Pierson there, shivering in an old wool topcoat.

"Joe? I thought you might be here." He rubbed his hands together, warming them as he came in.

"I'm always here, but what are you doing on this side of the Atlantic? I thought you were in the Paris bureau, doing research on Methos."

"Oh, they gave me the holidays off, and I thought I'd stop in quietly on my way around the world and say hello. It's always helpful being a student; you get these inexpensive travel rates. Besides, I needed a break from the Methos chronicles, or I'd slip up and they'd find I was writing them as well as translating them." He cocked his head at the sound of voices in the kitchen. "You have visitors?"

"An old man I found outside, and a friend, Dr. Anne Lindsey, who's checking him out. He and I were having a late supper."

"Oh. Good for you, Dawson. Nobody should be out in the cold alone on Christmas Eve, including me. I don't suppose you've still got some coffee?"

"Just made a pot."

When they came into the kitchen, Anne was listening with interest to something Niko was saying. The two of them turned toward the door. Joe began to introduce Adam to Anne and Niko when he realized nobody was listening to him.

"Nikeratos? Is that you?" Adam's voice came out in a cracked whisper.

"Oh, lad, it's good to see you again. Where have you been? I've missed you."

Adam dropped to one knee next to the old man and gave him a hug, which Niko returned with surprising energy.

Anne's eyebrows rose. She smiled at Joe. "I guess they know each other."

"I've known this lad since he was a sprat at the Watcher Academy," Niko said proudly.

"Oh, come on, Niko, I was never a sprat. It just seems like that." Adam stood again, his hand on Niko's shoulder, and asked, "Do you have anywhere to go tonight?" The old man shook his head.

Joe said, "I was going to make a few calls..."

"No need. I've got a place, and you can come home with me. We can stay up and talk about the old days."

"Oh, lad, that would be wonderful." Niko's face brightened. He stood and turned to Joe. "You've been very kind to an old man, and I won't forget it. May the Gods bless you in every way." He raised a hand in an archaic gesture, then turned to Anne. "Ma'am, you're a good doctor, and a kind woman. Everything will turn out well for you, I promise."

"My car's outside and it's still warmed up. I'll get you settled in it, and then I need to talk to Joe for just a moment and we can go. Is that all right?" Adam said.

"That's just wonderful. You know, lad, you're the best Christmas present I could ask for."

Adam gave him a quirky smile. "Same to you, old man." He went out to the car.

Joe turned to Anne, who was shuffling dishes into the sink. "Leave those, I'll do them when I open on the 26th. They won't be hurt by sitting for a day. I'll walk you to your car."

"Actually, Joe, I walked."

"Then I'll drive you home. I don't want you to slip and fall and lose that baby." His eyes ran up and down her figure, as his mind spun.

Anne blushed. "I know, I should have told you. I told MacLeod, but I didn't tell him whose it was, just that the father was an old friend. Then I found that I couldn't stay in his life-I can't live with the violence. When I came back from Paris, I just couldn't talk about it." The blush faded, to be replaced by a strained look. "I'm making plans and trying to figure out how to be a single mother, and keep my practice. It's not easy."

"You don't have to be a single mother if you don't want to," Joe blurted out, startling both of them.

The kitchen door swung open. Adam leaned in. "Joe, can I see you for just a moment?"

With a backward look at Anne, who seemed speechless, Joe went into the bar with Adam.

"Look, Joe, I just wanted to let you know. You don't have to go looking up the Watchers Pension Department for Niko. I'll make sure he's taken care of." Adam spoke quickly, but with a smile. "We've known each other a long time."

"Since Watcher Academy, I gather."

"Longer than that." Adam's face changed, and it was the quirky smile of Methos that Joe saw. "He was my own Watcher, back in ancient Greece, about 340 B.C."

Joe whistled. "Nikeratos of Athens. I thought he was dead long ago."

"Several times, but he keeps coming back the same as I do. His Quickening is not strong; his first death was in old age after a long and active life. He's just been around the edges of things for centuries, keeping an eye on all of us, getting us out of trouble. He did it for Plato, and for me, and I don't think he'll ever stop." Methos smiled. "He's never taken a head and never will; his first life was as an actor, which made him in some sense a priest of Apollo."

"That explains a lot. Look, I've got to get back to Anne; will I see you tomorrow at MacLeod's party?"

"Probably not. As far as he knows, I've disappeared, and I want to keep it that way for a while. That man is dangerous, Joe-he thinks he's a knight in armor out to defend the world from evil. He's a good guy, when he's not being a Boy Scout, but I'll stay clear of him for now."

"I understand," Joe said.

The Methos expression melted from Adam's face, leaving the hopeful look of the perpetual grad student. "Meanwhile, I've got a guest to take care of. Happy Christmas, Joe." He went out the door, whistling "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," quite out of tune.

Anne came out of the kitchen, carrying her bag. She put it down on a chair.

"Joe, did you mean what you said?"

He walked up to her and looked down into her face. "Yes, I did. I'm not much, but if you want me, if you need me, I'm here."

"Oh, Joe. You're the kindest friend anyone could ask for, and I do love you as a friend, but not as a husband. Can you understand that?" She put a hand on his arm, and he slid his arm around her in an embrace. Her words were muffled, spoken into his sweater. "Besides, Joe, you're part of this insane world of Immortals who kill each other. I can't live in that world. I couldn't live in it with MacLeod, and I can't live in it with you."

His hand came up to stroke her hair. "It's not an easy life, I know. I could leave it, but it would be difficult. Of course, being a doctor married to the owner of a blues club wouldn't be easy either."

"Joe, I've never looked for what's easy-if I had, I wouldn't be a doctor. But I have to look for what is right for my little one. I know you're a good man, a kind and loving man, but I think I'd do better to raise her as a single mother than in a marriage that takes place just for her sake."

"You're right." He sighed. "You know, I've always wanted a daughter."

"Well, I think you've got her, whenever she gets here. They're telling me early summer, but something tells me she'll have her own ideas about that." She smiled, though tears sparked on her eyelashes.

"If you need anything, any time, you know where I am," Joe told her. "I won't get in your way, but I want to be part of this child's life."

"You will be, Joe. Always."

He leaned down to kiss her, and she kissed him back-the kisses of lovers become friends.

She shivered, and he realized the club was cooling down. He helped her into her coat. "I'll drive you back to the apartment. You know, if you need more room once the baby comes, I can look out for a larger place for you. Watchers keep an eye on more than Immortals, sometimes. And I always have a spare room."

"I'll keep that in mind." She smiled. "It must be the endorphins, or something-you know, those nice chemicals in the brain that kick in during pregnancy. I have no reason to be such an optimist, but I have the strongest feeling that everything will be all right."

"Considering what day this is, I think you're right." Joe kissed her again and held the door for her. She looked up at him quizzically. "At least your baby won't have to sleep in a manger. I think we can come up with something better than that." They walked to Joe's car, parked across the street from the club. As he opened the car door for her, she asked, "Joe, where are you going tonight? Would you like to come up and visit?"

"Actually, I was going to go home, throw some logs in the fireplace and play music to the flames."

"In that case, would you mind if I come back with you? You're the only person I've told about the baby, except for Duncan, and I'd really like someone to talk to." She paused. "I'll stay in the spare room, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you want."

As they drove toward the house, Joe began to smile, a small happy smile that turned into a big delighted one.

"What is it?" Anne said.

"You've given me something for Christmas that I've always wanted, and I didn't realize it."

"What is it?"

"Someone to sing lullabyes to. Merry Christmas, Anne."

-----------------------------------------------------

Historical notes:

According to the historical novels of Mary Renault, Nikeratos of Athens (who may or may not have been fictional) was one of the premier actors of ancient Greece, in a time when actors were not only sacred for their service to Apollo but were also given diplomatic immunity for travel between city- states. He was a friend of Plato, and of Alexander. His friend, Thettalos, a real historical figure, acted as diplomats and couriers for Alexander during the Macedonian leader's early life. It is known that Thettalos and his best friend lived and acted together in the sacred festivals until both were well into old age. Thettalos actually lived, and Nikeratos may not have, but I choose to think that if Niko had come back as an Immortal, he would have enjoyed being assigned to keep track of the person we know as Methos.

-------------------------------------- finis.

Comments to Kit Mason

Back to JoeStories Archive
Report concerns/comments to Archivist

Home | About Raine | Contact

This is a fan site, and all work here is produced without the intention of profit; all characters not my own are the copyright of their respective holders.