A limo is driving down a deserted back road. In the back are Marisa and Toni, presumably models, drinking and talking. There's a third girl sitting between them, looking woozy and almost passed out.
Marisa: "...and the director says 'take off your clothes,' and I say, 'I don't do nude scenes.'" She pours champagne for Toni. "Six days work in seven months, do you believe it?"
Toni: "Especially for that kind of money." In the front, the driver, Stein, glances back at them in the mirror, then goes back to driving.
Marisa: "If you're not fifteen and look like you're on smack, they forget about you."
Toni: "I say to hell with all anorexic teenagers."
Marisa, smug: "We've got six weeks in Marrakesh."
Toni, smiling and satisfied: "All expenses paid."
Marisa: "And there'll be a lot of expenses." They laugh, and Stein looks at them again. As they drive on, though, the girl in the middle slumps over, her head lolling against Marisa's shoulder.
Marisa, not sounding terribly concerned: "You okay, honey?" The girl rolls her head back and looks at her blankly, clearly stoned out of her mind. Marisa takes her face in her hand, looking at her sadly. "What did you take this time?" The girl doesn't answer, too blitzed to even speak.
The car drives on, and before long arrives at a small airstrip in the middle of nowhere. As the car pulls up, we see Amy Thomas watching from around the corner of the building. She's holding a tape recorder.
Amy, into the recorder: "Nine a.m., at the warehouse. Walker's been waiting for ten minutes in the car. Nothing much else is going on."
As the limo approaches, Beck gets out of the waiting car and opens the door.
Beck, as Morgan Walker gets out of the car: "They're late."
Walker: "Time is relative. Believe me, I know." He walks out to meet the arrivals. The limo stops, and Stein gets out. When he opens his door, we hear laughing from inside. He opens the back door, and Marisa and Toni get out.
Walker: "Ah, Marisa. Toni . . . and our other friend?"
Marisa: "Um . . ." She gestures to the car, and Walker bends in to take a look. When he sees the other girl, he turns back to the others.
Walker: "Pity, she's going to miss the trip of a lifetime."
Toni: "But we still get the job, right?"
Walker: "I'm sure our client will be more than happy with both of you.
Marisa: "Where is he?"
Walker, placating: "Waiting anxiously inside." He gestures. "Mr. Beck will take you in to meet him."
Toni, sounding mildly suspicious: "And the photographer? Makeup?"
Walker, smooth: "They flew on to Marrakesh."
Toni, not believing a word of it: "Ah." She and Marisa exchange knowing looks, and follow Beck inside.
Stein jerks his thumb at the girl still inside: "Mr. Walker. What about this one?" Walker motions for him to get her out. Marisa and Toni walk on towards the hangar, talking, oblivious to what's going on. Stein hauls the other girl out, and Walker grabs her face, studying her briefly.
Walker: "Dead weight." He lets her go and walks off. Stein grins, and pulls out a gun. He stands in front of her.
Stein: "Sweet dreams."
Around the corner, Amy watches, horrified, as we hear the sound of the gun being fired.
Methos is walking out of what looks like the gate of an abbey. [There's a white stone building in the background, with a cross over the gate, and there are bells tolling, so I'm guessing abbey. --Jinjifore] There are a few other people around him, and it looks like they're tourists. As Methos walks towards the parking lot, he senses another immortal. Looking around, he sees Morgan Walker approaching him.
Walker: "Well, well. Look who we have here. The good Dr. Adams, if that's what you call yourself now."
Methos, looking and sounding amused, but also a little surprised: "Morgan Walker."
Walker: "We have some unfinished business."
Methos gives a little laugh, but doesn't smile: "I don't think so."
Walker: "You were a coward then. You're still a coward."
Methos, still sounding slightly amused. "And you are as charming as ever."
Walker, easing a few fingers inside his coat: "Shall we find a quieter spot?"
Methos starts walking past him: "Maybe another time."
Walker paces around him, saying firmly: "Now."
Methos turns and looks back over his shoulder: "You're not going to make a scene, are you?" Walker glares, but says nothing. Methos gets in his Range Rover and drives away, Walker still staring after him.
At Le Blues Bar, Amy is talking with Joe.
Amy, upset and angry: "I can't believe I was so dense. I figured, great, first assignment, Morgan Walker, big deal modeling agent. I'll get to see the world!"
Joe, gently: "The guy's got great cover, okay? Don't beat yourself up."
Amy: "Walk in a model, walk out a slave. And I am too thick to even notice until he murders someone right under my nose."
Joe: "There was nothing you could have done about it."
Amy, not convinced: "I could have thrown rocks, I could have called the police . . ."
Joe, shaking his head, still trying to be comforting: "No, you couldn't have."
Amy, smiling bitterly: "Right. We just watch."
Joe: "It's our job. Observe and record."
Amy: "But don't interfere. Yeah I know."
Joe waits a moment: "You've had really a rough day. Why don't you just go home and chill, okay?"
Amy, rubbing her temples, thinking: "Joe, why would someone who came tenth in her class at the Academy be the first to get a field assignment?"
Joe looks guilty, and says just a little too quickly: "Maybe you got lucky."
Amy: "Maybe someone pulled a few strings."
Joe: "You know, that happens." Takes a drink. "Look, I got stuff to do. So do you." He starts to get up.
Amy, stopping him: "Why did you do it?" She smiles, as if she thinks she knows already, but doesn't say anything. [see Notes]
Joe, slightly uncomfortable: "Your mother and I were classmates together at the Academy." Casually. "We were friends."
Amy laughs, disbelieving: "Friends." She smiles tightly and laughs, then demands, "What kind of friends?" Joe looks away, clearly not wanting to say. Amy shakes her head. "You know what's strange, Joe? My father died about five years ago. I came home to find my mother going through some old stuff. She was staring at a photograph." She shakes her head again. "I wasn't my father." Joe looks at her again. Amy gets angry, hitting the table to punctuate her next words. "I wasn't even sure you knew about me until I got bumped up. But you did, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?" Joe opens his mouth, but can't speak. Amy stands up angrily. "Why the hell do you think I became a Watcher?" She rushes out of the bar
Joe: "Amy . . ." He watches her go, shaking his head regretfully.
In the back room of the bar, Methos is standing in front of Joe's laptop, going through the Watcher database. He's looking at Walker's file when Joe comes in and discovers him.
Joe, surprised and indignant: "Hey!"
Methos turns to him, startled, and makes an unsuccessful attempt to seem casual: "Oh, hi, Joe." Tries a smile. "Uh, hey, missed you, too." He turns back to the computer, pleasantries over. "I'll just be a minute."
Joe, angry: "What the hell are you doing?"
Methos: "I'm looking for something."
Joe, still peeved: "I can see that. Where have you been?"
Methos glances at him, then says airily: "Here and there." Thinks a moment. "There, mostly." He turns back to the computer. "Hey, uh, I stopped by the barge. Where's MacLeod?"
Joe, striding forward: "You are unbelievable." He slams the computer screen down.
Methos straightens up, and makes one more go for nonchalance: "So, uh, MacLeod?"
Joe, irritated: "He's in London. Claudia Jardine's playing the Albert Hall." [see Notes]
Methos finally gives up: "I'm looking for Morgan Walker, Joe."
Joe, now really indignant: "The Chronicles are not your personal Rolodex. You find another way to hunt him."
Methos, startled: "Hunt--I don't want to hunt him!"
Joe, sarcastic: "Ah, no, you want to send him flowers."
Methos: "No, I want to keep the hell away from him."
Joe: "Really. So, what did you do to him?"
Methos looks up, and sighs.
Methos and Charlotte are in Morgan Walker's rooms, Methos sitting beside Charlotte's brother, who's lying on a bed.
Methos, taking his instruments back: Your brother's fever has broken. Another two or three days, he'll be as good as new."
Charlotte: "Thank you, Dr. Adams." [Obligatory accent crab: Euw. 'Nuff said. --Jinjifore]
Methos puts his instruments back in a box and shuts it: "It's Benjamin." He stands up.
Charlotte, shyly: "Thank you. Benjamin."
Methos gets up and crosses the room to put the box in his bag: "I'll be looking in on him again tomorrow."
Charlotte joins him, watching him: "Benjamin, why do you look after slaves? Not many doctors do."
Methos smiles, mostly, it seems, to himself: "Perhaps I was one in a previous life."
Charlotte smiles with him, and Methos picks up his bag and starts to leave. Charlotte follows, and touches his back. He stops, startled, and turns to look at her.
Charlotte: "Do you have to go? So soon?"
Methos: "Captain Walker . . ."
Charlotte: "He's at sea."
Methos, intrigued: "Really?" He watches Charlotte walk behind him, heading for a table near the wall. She picks up some papers from the table, studying them.
Charlotte: "I used to watch you sometimes, in the marketplace. I saw how those women used to look at you."
Methos, matter of fact: "Charlotte, are you flirting with me?"
Charlotte: "Yes." She puts the papers down and walks back to him, hands behind her back. "Is that all right?"
Methos drops his bag. He raises his hands and frames Charlotte's face with them.
Methos: "It's lovely." He kisses her.
Outside, a wagon goes by. A row of slaves stands by the side of the street, and they watch as Walker comes up the street, a sack slung over his shoulder. A sailor calls out behind him, and Walker turns, stopping.
Sailor, running up: "Cap'n Walker! Cap'n Walker!" He stops short of Walker, breathing hard. "Found two slaves, in the galley. They broke their chains. They was raidin' our supplies, fixing to make a break for it." He gestures over his shoulder, to where other sailors are bringing up the two men. Walker lets his bag drop, and walks forward, pulling out two pistols. The sailor backs up. "It's this way, Cap'n." Walker continues forward as two other sailors drag the captured slaves into the square.
Sailor: "These are them, Cap'n."
Walker regards the two men for a moment, then shoots them both without saying a word.
Walker: "Nobody steals from me." He turns and walks back to where he dropped his bag, putting the pistols back in his belt. "Least of all my own cargo."
In Walker's rooms, Methos and Charlotte are lying in bed.
Methos: "I should be going."
Charlotte kisses his forehead: "At least let me make you something to eat. He is still at sea." They both laugh.
Methos, smiling: "But for how long?"
Charlotte shrugs: "He's not back for three more days."
On the street, Walker is approaching his home.
Upstairs, Methos rolls over on top of Charlotte, drawling: "Maybe I will stay . . . for dinner." He lunges forward and gets Charlotte's wrist in his mouth, pretending to gnaw on it. She giggles.
Charlotte: "And breakfast?"
Outside, Walker is crossing the street to his house.
Upstairs, Charlotte is lying on her stomach, Methos kissing her shoulders. He stops abruptly, looking up as he senses Walker approaching.
Outside, Walker stops in his tracks, looking around as he senses Methos in return.
Upstairs, Methos rolls out of bed, grabbing for his clothes.
Charlotte: "Benjamin, what are you doing?"
Methos leans back: "We're having company." He kisses her. "Walker's back." He reaches for his clothes again.
Walker looks up his lighted window, and begins to walk faster.
Methos, wearing his pants but not much else, finishes collecting his clothes. He kisses Charlotte one last time, then heads for the stairs.
Charlotte watches him go: "Benjamin . . ." Methos runs up the stairs without looking back. "Don't leave me." She drops her head on her arms.
Joe: "You gotta be out of your mind."
Methos, exasperated: "Come on, Joe."
Joe: "Look, just because you couldn't keep it in your pants two hundred years ago, you expect me to turn over the Chronicles." Methos turns away, back to the computer.
Methos: "That was the basic idea, yes."
Joe: "I'll bet it was."
Methos, annoyed: "Come on, you'd do it for MacLeod!"
Joe, suddenly calmer: "Well, you know, I know MacLeod. You see, I know who he is, I know what he is. As far as you're concerned . . ."
Methos, frowning: "What's that supposed to mean?"
Joe: "Look. Let's make this real simple. I'm a Watcher. You're an immortal. It's not my job to make your life easier."
Methos, not believing what he's hearing: "Your Watcher oath?" Takes a step toward Joe, his voice cutting. "Ah, yeah, heaven forbid that you get involved with an immortal. That would compromise your precious ethics, wouldn't it? Providing, of course, that it's possible to do that with a hypocrite."
They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them saying anything.
Joe, quiet but determined: "Get out."
Methos gives a little "Who cares?" shrug, and leaves. Joe sighs, rubbing his head tiredly.
Amy is waiting outside the building where Walker has his office. She peeks around the corner, and sees him coming out.
Amy, muttering: "It's about time." She pulls out her recorder. "It's 1:40. Mr. Congeniality's leaving the office on foot."
Walker heads down the street, and Amy slips around the corner and follows. As she turns the next corner, though, Walker is waiting for her. He grabs her by the neck.
Walker: "Looking for me?"
At Walker's house, Amy is feeling her neck gingerly.
Amy: "Quite a grip you've got there."
Walker paces up behind her, flipping through her notebook.
Walker: "Sometimes I get carried away." He glances at her. "Part of my charm." He closes the notebook and walks over to his desk. He turns and leans back against it. "What's a Watcher?"
Amy, defiant but not terribly convincing: "A what?"
Walker ignores her denial: "At first I thought you were police." "Then . . ." He reaches behind him on the desk and picks up her tape recorder. "I found this."
Amy shakes her head: "Okay, you win. I'm a reporter." Walker looks down at her, his expression not changing. "My editor wanted an expose piece on modeling in the nineties."
Walker taps his lips with the tape recorder, slightly amused: "Nice try." Amy looks at him, but says nothing. Walker turns and puts the tape recorder back, then faces Amy again. "You know I'm an immortal."
Amy, trying to be tough: "And I'm a Capricorn. Big deal."
Walker picks up the notebook again: "Your notebook." He paces towards her, turning pages. "Shall I read you a selection?"
Amy: "I wrote it. I know what it says."
Walker: "I insist. Here . . ." He starts reading from the book. "'I wonder if all Watchers'--there's that word again--'get stuck with such a slimeball as Walker for their immortal." He looks at Amy. "Not very flattering."
Amy: "But accurate." She looks at Walker daringly, raising a brow.
Walker sits down again, and stares at Amy. Then, suddenly, he starts to laugh. Amy closes her eyes.
Joe is on the phone. He listens, and frowns as he gets Amy's voice from her answering machine.
Amy: "I'm gone. Leave it after the beep. Bye"
Joe, trying not to sound worried, but obviously very worried: "Amy, it's Joe. Where you been? Call me, will you, please? Please." He hangs up, and sighs, frowning worriedly.
At Walker's house, Walker and Amy are still in his office, both of them now standing. Walker spreads his arms, gesturing to the portraits of women hung on the walls.
Walker: "Look at them." He walks to the nearest, an enormous black and white photograph of a woman with dark curly hair. "Beautiful, aren't they?" He paces back to Amy, looking around. "Frozen in time. Like immortals." Shakes his head. "But they're not immortals. Give them ten or fifteen years. What do they have to look forward to?"
Amy, not impressed: "Oh, I don't know. Life?"
Walker, amused: "It's not a real life. The skin sags, the eyelids droop, the wrinkles attack. It takes a minor medical miracle to hold them together long enough for a photo shoot." He looks pitying. "Nobody wants them anyway?"
Amy, shaking her head in angry disbelief: "So, you sell them."
Walker: "Morality is an acquired taste. In my time, slavery was legal. I gave my women a new life, new hope."
Amy: "And how many cards are missing in your deck?"
Walker grabs her wrist, saying deliberately: "You need to learn respect for your elders." He looks down, and notices her Watcher tattoo. "That's interesting. What is it?"
Amy jerks her arm away: "Birthmark."
Walker: "I like bravado in a woman. I find it very . . ." He sighs, and then his voice turns almost bored. "Exciting." Amy says nothing. Walker drops the subject abruptly. "We need to talk about a name that keeps popping up in here . . ." He picks up her notebook again. ". . . and on the tapes. We need to talk about . . ." He leafs through the pages. " . . . Joe Dawson." Amy looks at him stonily.
Methos is opening the rear door of his car. He sees Joe drive up, and an annoyed look comes over his face. Joe parks and gets out. Methos gives an exaggerated sigh and leans against the back of the car, one hand on his hip in exasperation.
Joe, walking towards Methos: "Hey, where are you going?"
Methos drops the pose and starts loading his bags into the back: "Next stage out of Dodge." He puts the bags in and shuts the back door. He turns to Joe. Behind them, a van comes up the road and stops a short distance away. "Listen, I hate long good-byes." Methos walks past Joe to the front of the car.
Joe, following: "Look, I'm really worried about something."
Methos: "Aren't we all."
Joe: "Her name is Amy Thomas, she's a new Watcher. She's supposed to check in with me every four hours and she hasn't called."
The scene pulls back to a perspective from the car that parked down the road. When Methos speaks, his voice is muffled as if he's being listened to from inside the car.
Methos: "I'd like to help, Joe, but I've got a plane to catch."
Joe, back to the immediate perspective: "She's watching your guy."
Methos: "What guy?"
Joe: "Morgan Walker."
Methos looks away.
Walker bursts into his rooms, looking around. Charlotte, still in her nightclothes, rushes up to him.
Charlotte: "Cap'n Walker. You're back early."
Walker, striding through the room: "Who's here?"
Charlotte: "No one, sir."
Walker jabs a finger at her, and she flinches back: "Don't lie to me, dammit! I know someone was here."
Charlotte, starting to get scared: "No one, I swear."
Walker lunges for the bed, snatching up the disordered sheets: "Who the hell was in my bed!" He shakes the sheet at Charlotte. "Tell me!"
Charlotte, backing away: "There wasn't."
Walker follows her: "Who is he?"
Up on the roof, Methos has managed to put on his shirt and vest. He slips over the roof to the railings, then trots across the roof and heads down.
Inside, Charlotte is still protesting.
Walker: "Tell me who he is."
Charlotte: "There was no one, I swear." She runs away, and Walker follows her.
Walker: "Tell me, Charlotte. Tell me, damn you!"
Charlotte: "There was no one!"
Walker: "Who is he?"
Charlotte reaches the stairs and cowers down on them, still denying: "No one!"
Walker grabs her: "How could you do this to me?" He catches her by the face. "I chose you. I saved you. You are my woman!"
Charlotte, crying: "I am you slave." She twists away. "Please!"
Walker scrambles after her: "Damn you! You love me!"
Charlotte, still trying to get away: "Please, you're hurting me!"
Walker catches her. "Who? Who?!" He slaps her. "Who is he?"
Charlotte, sobbing: "There was no one."
Charlotte: "There was no one, please . . ."
Walker: "You liar!" He grabs her head and pushes her through the window.
Charlotte falls, screaming, and rolls down the slope of the roof to land on the street below. It's starting to rain. Methos looks up from the street just in time to see her fall. He stands in horror for a moment, then rushes to her. Charlotte looks up at him, and he strokes her hair, then her eyes close and she dies.
Later, Methos is hurrying down to the street, carrying his bag. A man leading a team of trotting horses goes by, and Methos dodges around them. When he's past them, though, he stops in his tracks as he sees Walker standing the middle of the street.
Walker: "You killed Charlotte."
Methos, angry: "I slept with her. You killed her." Beside them, a line of chained slaves is being led down the street, but Walker ignores them.
Walker: "You bastard. You have no idea what she meant to me. I loved her."
Methos, shaking his head, his voice sharp with contempt: "You owned her."
Walker: "Fight me."
Methos regards him for a moment: "Pass."
Walker steps forward and pulls his sword half-out.
Walker: "Draw your sword. Damn you."
Methos steps back, then disappears. Walker pursues him, sheathing his sword again, but when he reaches the side street where Methos was standing there's no sign of him.
Walker: "Fight me, damn you!" He looks down the empty street.
Methos, unseen: "Some other time."
Methos, to Joe: "So, you don't know he has Amy."
Joe: "Yeah, and I don't know that he doesn't."
Methos, not moved: "Get your Watcher buddies to help you."
Joe, making an exasperated noise: "Ah. You know they're not going to if there's an immortal involved."
Methos thinks for second: "Call the cops."
Joe: "Oh, yeah. 'Officer, I'm looking for this Watcher, she's following this guy who lives forever and now she's disappeared.'"
Methos pushes himself up and turns to go: "You'll think of something."
The perspective switches to the van again as Methos turns on Joe. Beck is sitting in the driver's seat, and glances over at Stein, sitting in the passenger seat.
Methos, finally losing his temper: "What do you want, Joe!" The perspective shifts to them again.
Methos: "Oh, now you need my help? Yeah, I'm an immortal, you're a Watcher, but we're in league together? Sounds a lot like interference to me."
Joe, quiet: "Are you through?"
Methos ponders this, his eyes drifting briefly past Joe: "Yes. For the moment." He leans back against the car. "We have other concerns."
Joe: "Yeah, like what?"
Methos: "Like the car down the street." As Joe turns to look. "Don't look! It pulled up when you got here, it hasn't budged since."
From inside the van, Stein watches as Joe and Methos continue to talk quietly. He rubs his hand over his face, clearly getting nervous. On the street, Joe turns to face Methos and pulls out a gun.
Methos: "What the hell are you doing?"
Joe: "What do you think?" He turns to face the van.
Stein sees Joe coming towards him with gun: "Son of a bitch is packing. Damn, we've been made!"
Methos darts up beside Joe as he walks toward the van: "Joe, I wouldn't advise it."
Joe, annoyed: "Yeah, I know."
Stein opens the door and leans out, pulling his own gun. He fires, and Methos throws himself in front of Joe as he goes for cover, taking the bullet. Methos falls, wounded, and Joe makes it to the cover of the gate as Stein fires again. Stein gets off one more shot, then Joe shoots and hits him in the shoulder.
Stein, sliding down the side of the van: "I'm hit."
Beck darts around the back of the van. Methos revives with a gasp, and goes for cover as Beck starts shooting to cover Stein's retreat into the van. Methos looks over at Joe.
Methos: "Cover me."
Joe starts shooting while Methos scuttles to his own car and gets the doors open. But it isn't long before Joe runs out of bullets.
Methos, from the car: "Joe!" He gets inside.
Beck keeps shooting, then retreats into the van as Joe makes for the car. Joe gets into the back seat, and Methos peals away, the van following.
Walker, voiceover as the van drives down a deserted back lane: "A guy with no legs, and you let him get away from you." Cut to Walker, in his office. "I don't care who he had with him."
Beck, on the phone in the car: "But Mr. Walker, I saw it with my own eyes. You'd never believe it" In the passenger seat, Stein coughs, clearly not feeling his best. "I'm telling you, the guy was dead, but came back to life."
Walker rises, suddenly interested: "What did this miracle man look like?"
Meanwhile, Methos and Joe are driving down another back road.
Joe, voiceover: "Will you turn the car around."
Methos, voiceover: "Give me one good reason." Cut to inside the car.
Joe: "Because we're going the wrong way!"
Methos, emphatic: "I beg to differ. The bullets are back that way."
Joe, disgusted: "I forgot who I was dealing with." He jerks his thumb back behind them, raising his voice. "Look, we lost those clowns two towns ago."
Methos, nearly shouting: "I saved your life, I get to choose!"
Joe: "Turn the car around!"
Methos, quiet and stubborn: "No."
Joe pulls his gun and waves it at Methos: "Look, I am going back! With you or without you, I am going back!"
Methos looks at him, staring at the gun in disbelief. "To do what, exactly?
Joe: "I don't know, I've got to find Amy."
Methos: "Remember the Alamo, Joe."
Joe looks angry, but before he can say anything, the car starts jerking and slowing down. Methos starts to look worried.
Joe, putting the gun away: "Well, thank you. I knew you would understand."
Methos: "Thanks nothing. We're out of gas."
The car coasts to a halt, the engine rattling and finally dying. Joe looks at Methos.
Joe: "You gotta be kidding."
Methos looks over at him, but says nothing. They both get out and look around. They're in the middle of nowhere, on a narrow lane running between two fields. Methos leans his arms against the door, propping his head on them.
Joe walks around to look at him over the space of the hood: "I don't believe that you ran out of gas."
Methos, annoyed and indignant: "I didn't know I was going to be driving across country!"
Joe just looks disgusted.
Cut to Methos, leaning against the hood with his arms folded, while Joe rummages in the back. Methos looks over as Joe shuts the back and comes around the side of the car, then starts laughing out loud as he sees the gas can in Joe's hand.
Methos: "You're walking?"
Joe, striding past him: "Unless you've got a better idea, huh?" Methos watches, incredulous, as Joe keeps going. Joe sighs, shaking his head, and mutters, "Stupid."
Cut to wide angle of the car sitting on the road, Joe walking away. Methos lets him walk about ten feet, then trots after him, reaching for the gas can.
Methos: "Hey! Let me carry that."
Joe, crabby: "I can do it." Mutters. "I can't believe this."
Methos: "Look on the bright side, Joe. We've got good weather."
On the side of a main road, Methos and Joe are standing, Methos holding out his thumb. Joe regards Methos as a car zips past them.
Joe: "Well that's twelve."
Methos, trying to be nonchalant: "Who's counting? I'm not counting." He looks around, then mutters, "It's eleven, anyway."
Joe hands him the gas can: "Hey, let me try."
Methos laughs derisively, taking the can: "Yeah, sure. They won't stop for me but they'll stop for you." He folds his arms. "Of course they will."
Joe looks at him smugly: "Observe." He licks his thumb and holds it out. "And record." He grins, and Methos shakes his head.
A van comes by, and promptly pulls over.
Joe: "Magic." He starts for the car, Methos following with a dour expression. "Technique, my good man."
Methos: "Technique my ass." He picks up his pace to open the door for Joe. He holds up the can to the driver of the van. "We're out of gas." The driver gestures them in.
Meanwhile, Beck and Stein pull up to where Methos's car died. Stein puts a pistol out the window, covering Beck as he gets out.
Joe and Methos finish getting in the van.
Joe, rubbing his hands together: "Thank you, sir." They drive off.
Beck looks inside the Range Rover. Stein still has the pistol trained, his hand shaking.
Beck: "They ran out of gas." He gets back in the van, and Stein shakily lowers his gun, getting back in the car with a wince.
At a gas station, Methos is leaning against the pump, watching as Joe finishes filling up the can. Behind the station is a large warehouse.
Methos: "It's nice of the guy to open up." Joe says nothing, thumping the can back and putting the hose up. "What is your problem?"
Joe points an accusing finger at him: "You know, if you had whacked that guy two hundred years ago, we wouldn't be in this spot now and Amy would be safe."
Methos: "Hey, don't lay it on me, pal. You're the one that sent the rookie into the field." Joe looks down, smacking his hand on top of the pump. He turns away, and Methos goes on. "You know as well as I do a sloppy Watcher's a dead Watcher."
Joe looks upset, but a moment later he's forgotten about the argument as he sees Beck and Stein's van cruise by on the main street.
Joe: "Hey. Is that who I think it is?" On the street, the van backs up and peals into the alley.
Joe: "Damn it."
Methos rushes up to him: "Shh. Okay . . ." Beck and Stein start firing. The man who gave them a lift leaps back in to his van and pulls away. Methos steps in front of Joe.
Methos: "Okay, I'll cover you this time. Go on!" He crouches and moves in front of Joe as he heads for the warehouse. Methos and Stein exchange shots, Beck trying to maneuver the van into a good firing position, while Methos retreats to the building behind the gas station. Finally, Methos shoots at some cans stacked in the parking lot, and they explode, giving him and Joe a chance to get inside. Stein and Beck get out of the van and follow.
Inside the building, Methos shuts and locks the door behind them. He goes over to Joe, who's standing in the center of the room, panting. The building is open inside, the space broken up with machinery and support pillars.
Joe, leaning over to catch his breath: "Oh, man. It's not going to take long for them to find us in here."
Methos checks the chamber on his gun: "We're out of chips, too."
Joe, despairing: "Ah."
Methos, bitter: "You know where I should be now? I should be 35,000 feet in the air, sinking my teeth into a succulent steak, just anticipating the stewardess coming round to plump my pillow."
Joe, finally catching his breath: "Listen, I appreciate this, man."
Methos regards him for a moment: "Ah, whatever." He hands Joe the gun and starts to walk off.
Joe: "Hey! Where are you going?"
Methos comes back to him: "Well, in the absence of any alternative, I thought that I would go and do it the old-fashioned way."
Joe, following: "Yeah, well, you're not going without me."
Methos stops again and turns, getting angry: "Joe, you don't have any bullets, and you are *not* quick on your feet."
Joe, getting angry in his turn: "Yeah, well, I'm going to do what I have to do, Methos!"
Methos, catching on that something more is going on here: "You got something to tell me?"
Joe, defensive: "What?"
Methos: "What is it between you and this Amy?"
Joe tries to walk past him: "Look, we're wasting time."
Methos: "Hey, look, Joe! Watchers put themselves on the line every day but you don't go out there and risk your life for them."
Joe finally relents: "Yeah, well . . . they're not my daughter."
Methos stares, finally understanding. Joe nods, and Methos's face changes to a look of sympathy. Before he can say anything, though, they hear a door slam. Joe looks at Methos, who's thinking fast.
Methos: "Okay. I'm going to see to the help." He looks at Joe. "Then you and me, we have to talk." He looks Joe up and down. "Dad." Methos turns and scans the area, giving a put-upon sigh, then darts off, moving from pillar to pillar. Joe stays behind, sticking to the shelter of one of the supports.
Beck and Stein walk in. Methos slips down some stairs, a crowbar in his hand. He peers around the corner as he gets to the bottom, then ducks back as Beck crosses the passage beyond. Methos waits a moment, then slips across and catches Beck as he's rounding the corner. He lays him out with the pipe, and takes his gun.
In his hiding place, Joe curses as his cell phone suddenly rings.
Joe: "Damn it." He pulls the phone out. "Dawson."
In his office, Walker paces behind Amy, the phone to his ear: "Good to finally talk to you, Joe." Joe looks horrified as Walker goes on. "Amy's told me all about you."
Meanwhile, Methos sneaks back down the passage, Beck's gun in his hand.
Joe, fierce: "You let her go, Walker!"
Walker, smirking: "But you've made me a very unhappy man."
Joe: "Yeah, well, life's full of disappointment."
Walker: "How true." He suddenly grabs Amy's hair, pulling her head back as he holds the phone to her mouth.
Amy: "Tell him to go to hell."
Stein slinks along a wall, gun ready.
Walker: "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, our discussion of life."
Joe: "Okay, talk to me."
Walker: "I have someone you want. You have someone I want. How about a trade, Joe?"
Joe sighs, looking grim.
Cut to Methos, standing with his back to a wall. He takes the clip out of his gun, cocks the gun, then slides the clip back in. Then he jumps around the corner, aiming and pulling the trigger on Stein. The gun clicks on the empty chamber, and Methos dodges back behind his wall. Stein starts to laugh.
Stein, sauntering out into the open: "You're out of bullets." He laughs again. Methos comes around the corner slowly, hands up, still holding the gun. Stein starts to lower his own gun, and Methos shoots him.
Back to Joe, still on the phone.
Joe, quickly and desperately: "When? Where? Yeah." He makes a face, as if he's tasting something bitter. "Yeah, I got it. I got it." He hangs up.
Methos trots up to him, holding a gun jauntily in each hand: "Two for two." He transfers the guns to one hand, and holds up a set of keys. "Nice chaps. Even left the car keys." He looks at Joe. "Who was on the phone?"
Joe: "That was uh,--that was Jack Bender. He's an old Watcher buddy of mine. He's got a line on Walker's whereabouts."
Methos looks intrigued: "Really."
Joe, sounding short of breath as if he's having trouble getting the words out: "Yeah. That old power station, outside Chartres. Tonight, six o' clock. He's going to have Amy with him."
Methos, sober but determined: "Well, we know what we got to do, then." He walks away.
Joe, almost to himself, not looking at Methos: "Yeah. We know what we got to do." He looks at Methos's retreating back, his expression grim.
Methos, voiceover as the van drives along a crowded city interstate: "So does she know?" Cut to the interior of the van, Joe sitting and looking out the window while Methos drives.
Methos: "Amy. Does she know that you're her father?"
Joe leans his head tiredly against the open window: "Ahh, it seems like she figured it out."
Methos glances over: "You didn't tell her, then." Joe shakes his head. Methos glances over again. "If you don't want to confide in me, Joe that's--that's fine." He pauses. "Don't let the fact that I've saved your life influence you in any way."
Joe finally lifts his head and looks at him: "It's nothing new, Methos. It was my first year at the Academy. I met her mom." He glances at Methos again, and his voice turns sour. "She was married."
Joe: "Well, we were working late one night. We had dinner and a nice bottle of wine, a couple of drinks . . . Anyway, she got pregnant.
Methos: "Just when I think I know the real Joe Dawson."
Joe: "Yep. There you have it."
Methos: "So why didn't you tell her?"
Joe: "Amy's mom loved her husband. Amy loved him, too. Better to screw up one life instead of four." He goes back to looking out the window. Methos drives on.
Back at the warehouse, Stein's phone, still clipped to the dead man's belt, is ringing.
In his office, Walker hangs up the phone, looking peeved: "They better be dead."
Amy smirks: "Getting worried?"
Walker comes up behind her, putting a pistol to the back of her neck: "I"m not the one who should be worried." He pulls her to her feet and starts walking, pushing her in front of him with the gun still on her head.
Back in the car, Methos is still driving.
Methos: "Thanks, Joe."
Joe: "For what? You're the one that saved my ass."
Methos: "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that." Joe rubs his hand over his hair uncomfortably. Methos goes on, earnestly. "You know, these last few hours, I feel like there's a bond between us."
Joe nods awkwardly, looking back out the window: "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah."
Methos looks at him, smiling: "Who'd ever have thought that I'd end up with a Watcher as my best friend?"
Joe, getting irritable: "Yeah, it's a real puzzler." Methos, still smiling serenely, says nothing. "Hey, listen. How about a little less chatter and a little more speed?"
Methos, cheerful: "Okay, buddy."
At their destination, Methos gets out of the car and walks to catch up Joe, who's already heading towards the building.
Methos, almost eager: "Joe, we actually make a really good team. We could be like Scully and Mulder."
Joe: "Yeah, right."
Methos: "Sipowicz and Simone."
Methos: "Caligula and Incatartas. Well, maybe not Incatartas because he was a horse--"
Joe, finally losing it: "Will you shut up?!"
Methos turns to him: "Joe?"
Joe, giving in: "It's a trap, man." He looks away. "Walker's waiting for us. He knows we're coming. I'm supposed to shoot you when we get inside." He looks at Methos miserably. "He said he was going to kill Amy."
Methos reaches out and puts a hand on Joe's shoulder, saying with exaggerated gentleness: "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Joe looks at Methos, incredulous: "But you knew?"
Methos, brisk again: "Of course I knew."
Joe, still disbelieving: "Well, how did you know?"
Methos, ticking off points: "Joe, you never give a Watcher's first and last name. And you couldn't go to them for help, and then suddenly one of them's phoning you with information?"
Joe, getting it: "All right, all right . . ."
Methos goes on: "And whenever you lie you do this weird thing with your face."
Joe snaps around to look at him: "What?!"
Methos: "Well, you go . . ." He makes several facial contortions, and Joe looks away in disgust.
Joe, grumbling: "Okay, well, that's the last time I play poker with you." He glares at Methos. "Why did you drag this out?"
Methos shrugs, smiling broadly: "I'm easily amused."
Joe shakes his head and walks away, muttering: "Bonding, my ass."
Methos follows him, grinning.
Inside the power station, Methos walks in, looking around at the equipment. He stops as he senses Walker, and turns to see him come out of the shadows, Amy held in front of him.
Methos, smiling: "Voila." He strolls over to meet them. "Three's a crowd, Walker."
Walker: "Where's Dawson?"
Joe steps out: "I'm right here."
Amy: "Joe!" She starts for him, but Walker holds her back.
Walker, to Joe: "You're supposed to shoot him."
Joe: "Like I said, life is full of disappointment." Amy closes her eyes briefly.
Walker: "Drop the gun, or I kill her."
Joe: "If you shoot her, I will shoot you. And I will make sure the doctor takes your head."
Methos slowly draws his sword: "Take a walk, Joe. Take Amy with you." Amy closes her eyes again in relief. Methos smiles. "This is between me and him."
Walker: "That's all I've ever wanted." He lets Amy go, and she runs to Joe. He hugs her, and looks at Methos.
Joe: "See you later." He leaves with Amy.
Walker draws his sword: "I've waited almost two hundred years for this." He and Methos circle each other, swords ready.
Methos: "Do the words 'compulsive-obsessive' mean anything to you?"
Walker says nothing. He waits for another second, then lunges for Methos. They fight, and before long Walker gets the upper hand, his sword at Methos's throat while Methos struggles. Methos thrusts his own blade into one of the generators, and the shock breaks them apart, Walker's sword flying from his hand.
They lie there, stunned, for a moment, then Walker scrambles up and stumbles to where his sword fell. Methos grabs his own sword and stands up, raising it over his head. With a shout, he charges at Walker, who picks up his sword just in time to parry. They fight again, Walker retreating across a catwalk until Methos stops, and reverses his blade, holding it down in front of him like he's about to stick into the floor. Walker strikes at him twice, then Methos whips his sword up and cuts him in the stomach, then stabs him through. He pulls the blade out, and Walker falls to his knees. Methos bends down and grabs his hair, pulling his head back.
Methos, tightly and angrily: "Just because I don't like to fight, doesn't mean that I can't."
Methos cuts off Walker's head. He stands up, and spreads his arms as the Quickening arrives. Electricity crawls all around the supports of the building, along the catwalk and over Methos. He clenches his fists and draws his arms close to his body, then falls to his knees with a gasp as the Quickening ends.
At Le Blues Bar, Joe and Amy are talking.
Joe, voiceover: "So. Where do we go from here?" Cut to Amy, inside.
Amy smiles and shakes her head: "I don't know."
Joe: "I wanted to tell you."
Amy, upset: "So why didn't you?"
Joe: "Your mother and I . . ." He shakes his head. " . . . thought it was for the best."
Amy: "The best for who?" Joe says nothing, and Amy looks regretful. "Listen to me. I sound like a five-year-old."
Joe sighs sadly, and reaches over to her: "I'm really sorry, Amy."
Amy: "Yeah me, too." She pats his hand. "I gotta go."
Joe: "Just like that? I thought I might give this, uh, this fatherhood thing a shot." Amy says nothing, not looking exactly happy about the idea. Joe goes on. "Someday. When you're ready."
Amy smiles a little, and nods: "Maybe." Joe looks at her. "Good-bye, Joe."
Joe watches her go: "Good-bye, honey."
After she's gone, Methos comes over from the bar, carrying a bottle and two glasses. He sets the glasses down, then sits across from Joe.
Methos: "She'll be back." He starts pouring drinks for them.
Joe: "And how do you know?"
Methos, patiently: "'Cause I'm very old and wise." Joe stares, then gives a short laugh. Methos raises his glass. "To someday." They clink their glasses, and drink.
For this synopsis, I used a copy of the episode taped off Sky One. Because of this, the Eurominutes are lumped in with everything else, so my apologies if this causes any confusion. Also, the Act breaks are taken from that copy, so they're probably different than the US breaks. Just so's you'll know.As the astute among you may have noticed, this particular episode of Highlander is, well, one Highlander short of actually containing a Highlander. When the show was renewed for the sixth season, part of Adrian Paul's contract was that he would have a reduced role in some episodes, and would not appear at all in two of the season's thirteen episodes. This is the second of those, the first being "Two of Hearts," which is somewhat unique in that it contains no one at all from the regular cast.
Interestingly enough, although this episode's production number indicates that it was the eleventh produced episode of the season, it was actually filmed after "To Be" and "Not to Be," and before "Two of Hearts." Just some random trivia.
About Amy. I had a really hard time with interpreting this lady's expressions. For one thing, she smiled almost all the time. She smiled when she was happy, she smiled when she was sad, she smiled when she was scared, when she was confused, when she was mad . . . the list goes on. So, I tried my best to call 'em like I saw 'em, even when it meant attributing defiance to her one second and fear the next.
Claudia Jardin is a character from the episode "Timeless." Duncan had been helping her since she was young, supporting her and using his influence to help her train in music. She became immortal when Walter Graham, hoping to preserve her musical talent, shot her.
And guess what? *Everyone* has a name. Well, except for the guy called "Sailor" who's called "Sailor" in the credits. But for once I was able to identify them all without having to resort to helpful descriptions like "Model 1" and "Driver." Miracles will never cease.
Until next time . . .
These pages are written by Jinjifore and are translated into HTML and maintained by Ian.
Disclaimer: All the dialogue, characters, situations, and darn near everything else belong to a bunch of fine and talented folks at Rysher Entertainment and Panzer/Davis, and in particular the dialogue belongs to the credited writer of this episode. Me, I just wrote the rest down in my own words, which belong to me, but the episode itself was made by the aforementioned people and is owned by them. This humble synopsis isn't meant to infringe on their rights, and I'm sure as heck not making any money from doing these.
Everything not belonging to Rysher, et al, ©Copyright 1997 by Jinjifore
Feel free to copy and distribute as long as this copyright notice and disclaimer are included, except where local bandwidth laws apply.
Also, check out Ian's home page.
Celtic clip art courtesy of the Celtic Art Web Page.
|Last Rev: E9H [ 30 Aug 00 ]|