Perceptions

This story is to be part of a new universe known as "Forever Tomorrow." This universe is a crossover between New Series Tomorrow People and Highlander: The Series. It is completely and totally independent of my "Edge of Forever" and "Tapestry" universes. There is a website for this universe at http://www.mindspring.com/~chelesedai/4ever/index.htm for those interested in seeing the full depth and breadth that has gone into developing this particular universe.

This story is the immediate sequel to "Forever Young" although it is not neccessary to have read that story to appreciate and understand this one.

For those of you who are familiar with both series, you skip the rest of this intro and go right to all the legalese.

A little bit about Highlander: The Series. This television show focuses on the lives and adventures of a long-lived, nearly impossible to kill race known as Immortals. Immortals are involved in a life-long battle known as the Game, and their belief is that when the Game ends, there will be only one Immortal left standing. Period. I know this is sketchy, but don't worry if you lack familiarity with this show and this brief intro makes no sense; I made great effort to write this in such a way to fill in any blanks for the non-Highlander initiated.

***The legal stuff: If you recognize them, they don't belong to me. The characters of Richie Ryan, Duncan MacLeod, Tessa Noel, Joe Dawson, and the concept of Immortality and the Watchers do not belong to me. Neither do the characters of Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte Damon, Jade Weston, General Bill Damon, or Frank, or the Tomorrow People. These characters belong to Panzer/Davis, Rhysher/Gaumont Television, Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra and ITV television respectively. I use them here without permission, but not for profit. Feel free to print this out for personal use, but it is not to be archived anywhere without my permission. (This excludes the TPFICT archives, the HLFIC-L archives, and the Highlander fiction www.seventhdimension.com archive.)

Special thanks to my beta reader, Caroline Fales for all of her feedback and prompting and patience through the rough points of this story. Also, thanks to a few non-list people who helped me get this piece onto its feet.

This story will post twice a week, beginning next week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays (with time out for my wedding and honeymoon from March 19 to March 31).

One last word: Highlander is a darker universe, and a bit violent. I'm going to stick a PG-13 on this story simply due to the inherent violence and darkness in the Highlander universe. (Mild profanity, and a sword fight).

Thanks for taking time to read this tale. I hope that everyone enjoys reading this adventerous romp as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As always, feedback, questions, and comments are welcome. Michele R Mason

Chapter One

London had its charm.

It didn't have the magical romance of Paris, but it had a certain elegance and charm that cried out to be noticed. While not flamboyant like the streets and people of Paris, there was a certain mystery and unique flavor to the city that was unlike anything that Corey Lyle had ever experienced. Of course, that only made sense because Corey Lyle didn't really exist; Corey Lyle, a collection of papers and documents and credit cards, had never experienced anything in his life.

Standing beneath Cleopatra's needle, feeling the faint rays of sunlight brushing his shoulders, Richie Ryan found himself smiling. He still didn't know where or how Mac and Joe, his mentor and friend, had gotten the identity of Corey Lyle, but Richie had found it quite easy to settle into the demeanor of the traveling university student. He liked Corey Lyle more than he liked even Richard Redstone, the last identity he had used in Europe. Richard Redstone was wealthy and flamboyant; a ladies' man and a millionaire. Richard Redstone attracted attention--Corey Lyle moved through the London streets like a phantom, invisible and unnoticed.

When you're Immortal, invisible and unnoticed are pretty good things to be.

Of course, if you'd listened to Mac, you could still be Richie Ryan, a nagging little voice inside his head reminded him.

The reminder made Richie wince. If he allowed his mind to stray too far, to remember too long, he would still feel the flames eating away his flesh, he would still smell the acrid stench of gasoline and burning skin and hair. Dying in a motorcycle accident wouldn't have been bad; but dying the way he did, burning and suffocating-- well, it had been enough to teach him a lesson about pushing the limits of his Immortality. Richie Ryan "died" in Paris, France from a motorcycle collision; he still kept the obituary as a common sense reminder to take better care of himself.

The slight rumbling of his stomach pulled Richie from his thoughts and his admiration of Cleopatra's Needle. Mac always teased him about his stomach, but Richie didn't see anything wrong with having a healthy appetite. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned and headed up the stairs, feeling the weight of his sword press against him underneath the long leather coat. The movement of the sword beneath his clothing was another constant reminder of who and what he was.

Immortal. He would live forever. Well, that's if another one of his kind didn't come along and lop of his head. That was the problem with being an Immortal--it was a constant race to remain alive. The sword was there for protection, part of the ages old code of how Immortals were supposed to duel. One to one, no witnesses, only with swords and to the death. Richie never went anywhere without it; it was as much a part of him as his heart or lungs. It was a constant echo of what separated him from those around him.

"Oh!" The sharp exclamation came as he very nearly walked into someone attempting to navigate their way down the same flight of steps he was walking up.

Richie caught her by the arms, steadying himself as well before they both went tumbling backwards. "Sorry about that, are you--"

The words froze in his throat. The face he stared down at was familiar. Richie didn't know whether to worry or be pleased by the coincidence. In his experience, there really wasn't such a creature as coincidence.

Familiar sooty dark eyes stared up at him from her youthful face. The same mesmerizing eyes from the airport not a day earlier; the same sculpted features, the same halo of hundreds of plaited braids. The same dark skinned beauty that had so poignantly reminded him of his own eternal youth.

"You again!" She smiled at him, her voice ringing in laughter.

"Yeah, small world." Richie returned her smile easily. "We really have to stop meeting like this."

"Well, you were here first." She extended her hand, her smile lighting up her eyes. "Ami."

Her hand was warm and soft, like her eyes and her smile. "Richie."

Too late, he realized what he had said; too late, he realized that he had given her his real name and not his assumed identity. Richie gave himself a mental cuff, and wondered what Mac would think.

He'd think that a pretty face has robbed you of your senses, Richie answered his own question the moment that he asked it. A pretty face that is way, way too young for you. Get a grip, Ryan.

Despite his self-chastisement, Richie didn't release her hand. He didn't want to release her hand. "Do you always talk to strange tourists on the streets?"

"Only the ones I bump into."

"Have you had lunch yet?" Again, Richie's mouth was about five minutes ahead of his brain. No, it wasn't his mouth that was causing him problems; it was simple nineteen-year- old physiology. Ami was pretty, clearly intelligent--

--and clearly too young for you. Do the words 'cradle robber' mean anything to you?

"Actually, no, but--" Ami paused, throwing a meaningful glance over his shoulder. "I'm meeting my Mum for lunch."

Richie followed her gaze until it came to rest on the older woman who clearly had to be her mother. The woman sat on a stone bench, reading a magazine. She would occasionally look up, then pretend to be utterly engrossed in the magazine again. Catching the young Immortal looking at her, she snapped the magazine closed and returned his gaze levelly. Richie could feel her eyes examining him even from the distance, and he could tell by the twitch to the corners of her mouth that he didn't exactly measure up.

As he met Ami's gaze again, she smiled apologetically. "I'm late as it is. She hates it when I'm late." She crinkled her nose attractively and sighed, lowering her voice although it was clear her mother was too far away to hear her words. "She's overprotective, too. Worries too much about me."

"That's what mothers do." As he said it, he felt a stab of pain and Tessa's face swam in his memory. She was the closest thing he'd had to a mother; it was odd how he remembered Tessa at the oddest times, and how much the remembrances still hurt.

"It was nice meeting you again, Richie."

The feeling descended on him suddenly. The all too familiar sensation that touched every fiber of his being. The feeling that was both inside of him and outside of him at the same moment. Every muscle, every nerve tensed with readiness as he noted the ~Presence~ of another Immortal. His heart pounded, his muscles tensed and the adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream. The vague pressure built up inside his head, not unlike a swarm of bees buzzed around behind his eyes; it was more than enough to distract him from the young woman before him.

He smiled as graciously as he could, trying to scan the ebbing tide of people without appearing to do so. "It was nice bumping into you, too."

If she suspected something, she gave no sign of it. With a final smile, and words he didn't quite hear, she glided down the stairs toward her mother.

The buzz was fading as he turned away from her and melted into the crowd. He supposed that he could simply walk in the other direction and not worry about it. After all, his plane was leaving tomorrow--he could avoid another Immortal if he wanted to.

But Richie knew first hand what some of his kind were like. He couldn't risk the idea that an unknown Immortal had seen him talking to Ami. If they had, she could become a target; they could think that she meant something to Richie, that she was a close and personal acquaintance.

No, he had to find the source of that fading awareness that Immortals referred to as "the buzz."

It intensified as he neared an office building. The door was just swinging closed, and he slipped quickly inside before it closed all the way.

Inside the building, the buzz ebbed and flared, but it wasn't hard for Richie to track its source to the roof of the building.

Brilliant, fiery red hair cascaded over the leather-clad shoulders of the figure leaning over the edge of the building. Richie had to stifle a gasp as he noticed the high-powered rifle she had aimed at the square below.

"They make shooting ranges for that."

"I don't have any battles with you." The accent was melodical, mixed with different countries and languages, but strongly accented with Irish. She didn't even have the dignity to look at him. "Go away."

"Richie Ryan."

"I don't care who you are. Leave me to my business, and I'll leave you to yours." She calmly began to load the rifle.

Richie didn't think twice.

In a few fluid movements, his sword was in his hands, pressed against her neck. Richie didn't really want to fight her. And certainly not in broad daylight on the rooftop of a downtown London building, but people who aimed high powered rifles into crowds of unarmed civilians weren't normally the sort you exchanged phone numbers and recipes with. "Don't make me do this."

He underestimated her. Her calmness and callous disregard for his presence should have warned him that this was no ordinary woman. He was still on his back wheezing from several sharp kicks to his sternum and kidneys when she pressed her booted heel into the palm of his hand and aimed the rifle at his face. Her eyes were a still, cold gray- blue like the sky before a storm. "At this range, Richie Ryan, I think that even a high powered rifle could remove your head. Easy Quickening."

To punctuate her words, she dug in her heel. The pain shooting through his hand and arm made Richie wince although he didn't cry out. "Don't get in my way again, little boy. Fire burns."

With those words, she turned and fled the rooftop.

Nursing his broken, but slowly healing ribs, Richie realized he was in no condition to follow and challenge her.

Instead, he lugged himself to the edge of the building to see precisely who or what she had been aiming at.

When his eyes made contact, his blood froze in his veins.

>From where he leaned, he had a perfectly clear view of Ami and her mother.

Richie sunk back against the wall. Something told him that he was not getting on that plane tomorrow.

Chapter Two

Holding the telephone to his ear, Richie cursed silently as he listened to the insistent ringing halfway around the world. Where was Joe when he needed him? There was an Immortal in London, who for some inexplicable reason wanted to kill an innocent mortal, and of course, Joe wasn't around to give the information he desperately needed.

Be fair, Richie scolded himself as the telephone reached its tenth ring. Joe isn't supposed to give you any information at all. You're not even supposed to know he exists. And he is allowed to have a life.

Joseph Dawson was a Watcher. A high-ranking member of an elite organization which observed and recorded the actions and lives of Immortals. They lived by a code almost as strict as that which Immortals followed: Watchers observed and recorded, but never interfered. Immortals didn't even know the civilian historians, scholars, and amateur snoops existed. Well, most Immortals didn't, because most Watchers stuck to their centuries old rules and code. However, Joe Dawson, Watcher of Duncan MacLeod, had broken those rules quite a while back and continued to do so with amazing regularity.

Of course, it wasn't as if Joe had any choice in the matter. Not originally. Richie's teacher and mentor, Duncan, had learned of the existence of the Watchers by accident. A renegade Watcher, James Horton, who believed that Immortals were abominations and the scrounge of the earth, had killed a very old, very close friend of MacLeod's. On Holy ground no less. Not even an Immortal would have done that.

Thus was the rather shaky and gruesome start of a constantly shifting friendship between the Immortal and his Watcher. Richie had been a little nervous at first; he didn't like the thought of being in close contact with someone who knew his secret, who knew how to kill him, who belonged to an organization that had held James Horton in high esteem and respect. Particularly when the James Horton had also been the brother-in-law of Joe Dawson. But time had changed his opinion; Joe had saved his life, and he considered the man a close friend--even if other Watchers still gave him the willies.

Right as Richie prepared to return the telephone to the cradle, the ringing stopped.

"Hello?"

"Joe? It's Richie."

"Richie?" The young Immortal could almost see the color fading from the other's face. "Is something wrong? What's happened?"

"Well, nothing's happened yet." Richie sat down on the bed, already feeling some sense of calm knowing that Joe was on the other end of the telephone. "I ran into an Immortal today. A woman."

"Yes?" Joe was waiting. Richie recognized the familiar, patient lull in the other's voice.

"I didn't kill her Joe. I didn't even fight her." Richie paused, replaying the scene slowly in her mind. "It was weird. She was some sort of assassin, I think."

"Assassin?" Joe's voice rose in curiosity. "Last I checked there weren't any Immortals in London working as assassins. You are still in London, right?"

"Yeah. But, Joe, she wasn't trying to assassinate any big political figures. She was trying to kill a teenage girl."

"Are you sure that was her target?"

"Yeah, I'm positive. I managed to stop her, but I don't think that she'll give up."

"Did you get her name?"

Richie shook his head in defeat, although he knew the Watcher couldn't see the motion. "No. But she's a redhead; blue eyes. A little taller than me, willow, slim."

"Richie, you aren't going after this woman are you?"

"Joe, she's trying to kill a mortal. A very young mortal. I have to find out what she's up to." Richie paused again, looking down at the hotel notepad he had been scribbling on. A name stared back up at him. A-M-Y. "Hey, Joe, you'll look into it, right?"

"Yeah, Rich. I'll look into it. But until I find out who this woman is, and what she's up to, you should probably stay out of her way."

"Way ahead of you."

"There's something else isn't there?"

Richie nodded. "The girl, the one this woman was trying to kill. I know who she is."

"I might have guessed."

"It's not what you think. I just wanted you to check and see if you could find out why someone would want to kill her."

"Does she have a name?"

"Ami."

"Ami?"

Richie tried to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. "I don't know her last name."

"That's not a lot to go on." Joe sighed heavily. "But I suppose that one of my people probably saw her with you--I assume she was with you at some point or you wouldn't know her name?"

"I bumped into her at the airport and later by Cleopatra's needle."

"You bumped twice into a mysterious girl who just happens to be the target of an attempted assassination?" Joe whistled softly. "Richie, doesn't that strike you as bit more than coincidence?"

"Joe, please. Just look into it."

"All right, fine. But you watch your head. I'll call you back as soon as I have something."

After he hung up with Joe, Richie noticed that he was even tenser than before. Joe's words echoed in his head. 'You bumped twice into a mysterious girl who just happens to be the target of an attempted assassination?'

No, Richie didn't believe in coincidences of that magnitude.

Grabbing his sword and his jacket, he left the hotel.

With any luck, Ami would still be at Cleopatra's Needle.

Chapter Three

"So, now that we've managed to discuss everything under the sun from politics to philosophy, do you want to tell me who that young man was?"

Ami Jackson lifted her dark eyes from her empty dessert plate and smiled brightly at her mother. "What young man, Mum?"

"Don't you even try to get all cute with me, young lady." Her mother was not to be distracted. Of course, once her mother got an idea into her head, she didn't allow herself to be budged.

With a heavy sigh, Ami tried to remind herself that her mother only badgered her so much because she worried about her. It didn't matter that Ami had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday, or that she knew Ami was capable of taking care of herself. In Sharon Jackson's eyes, Ami would always be her "baby girl" and would always need protection and guidance.

The problem was that her mother couldn't protect her from everything. And most of the time, her mother couldn't provide the particular sort of guidance and advice that Ami needed. There had been a time in her life when her mother had been the sole source of both of those things, but that had all changed the day she met Adam Newman and Megabyte Damon. That had changed the day that Ami learned that she wasn't destined to be normal or live a normal life.

They were The Tomorrow People, the next step in human evolution. She had met Adam and Megabyte when she began receiving clairvoyant impressions from their sick friend Kevin. Drawn into the puzzle and mystery of Kevin's illness, she had quickly come to learn that there was nothing normal about the tall Australian or the red-haired American. And that she was non-normal as they were.

Their abilities to teleport, moving instantly from one place to another in the blinking of an eye, and their telepathic powers made them targets for any government agency or scientist who wanted to shove them in a lab and study them like rats. It also gave them a particular awareness of the world around them-- knowing and noticing things that the majority of the population would never know. And that the majority of the population was better off not knowing.

That was what had attracted her to Richie at the airport. He was different. He felt different to her psychic awareness. With most people, there was only the faintest mental impression, or the occasional image or thought escaping them and coming to surface in her mind. It happened almost every day, and the Tomorrow People were used to it, calling it "background noise." But Richie's signature had been significantly different; it was stronger, more powerful, all the while being elusive. For a moment, she had thought that the blue-eyed strawberry blonde was one of them, but then she noticed the subtle fluctuations in his psychic aura.

And she had never sensed anything like it before.

Ami had all but forgotten about it when she ran into him on the steps in front of Cleopatra's Needle.

She had the strangest feeling that Richie wasn't at all what he appeared to be.

Ami didn't think that he was dangerous; she had some inner gut instinct that told her he wouldn't harm her or the Tomorrow People. But, running into him twice in the span of a few days couldn't be all coincidence.

However, she couldn't explain any of that to her mother.

Instead, she gave her mother the most reassuring smile that she could. "Mum, it's nothing. I told you, we bumped into each other and he was apologizing."

"That was a rather lengthy apology, Ami." Sharon Jackson folded her arms across her chest. "This isn't some Tomorrow People business that you're hiding from me, is it?"

Ami could never lie to her mother. She hated that. It would have been a handy talent to have when these conversations came up. "Yes, it is Tomorrow People business. But it isn't dangerous, I promise you."

"But you can't tell me what it is?"

"Mum," Ami spoke with exasperation. She had grown tired of these conversations years ago. Once her mother realized that she couldn't ground her to prevent her from spending time with Adam and Megabyte, she had actually gotten to know the young men; but she hadn't stopped worrying. And her mother didn't hesitate to take every opportunity to remind Ami's fellow Tomorrow People that she worried.

Sometimes, Ami envied Megabyte. For all the disagreements and disappointments he had with his father, General Damon accepted Megabyte's status as a Tomorrow Person. He accepted the Tomorrow People, and even occasionally aided them or provided them with information, albeit grudgingly.

"Mum. It's fine, I promise you."

Her mother stared at her for what seemed an endless moment. Then with some trepidation, she finally nodded. "All right, then. I'm taking your word for it, Ami. Now, let's talk about what you're going to wear to your cousin Megan's wedding."

With a roll of her eyes, Ami nodded. Anything had to be better than talking about the Tomorrow People and the mysterious Richie.

Chapter Four

Somebody upstairs likes me, Richie thought with a bright smile as he spotted Ami and her mother walking down the busy London street.

After leaving the hotel, Richie headed straight back to Cleopatra's Needle. Of course, as luck would have it, Ami was gone. He waited, and waited, and when she didn't return, he decided to stop for the day. He stopped at a small café, grabbed lunch, and was strolling back to his hotel when he spotted the young woman weaving through the crowd across the street.

He followed them at a discreet distance, wondering what he would say to her if he received the opportunity to speak to her. Somehow, "Hey, do you know why someone wants to kill you?" didn't sound like one of the best openings for broaching the subject.

They wandered into a used bookstore, and Richie heard opportunity knocking.

Loudly.

He found Ami in a far corner, browsing through a book of Shakespeare's sonnets.

"My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun," Richie quoted.

Ami looked up, her eyes widening, startled by his sudden appearance. She smiled, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. "Richie. Again."

"Small world." Richie motioned toward the book, "You like Shakespeare?"

"I like literature." She gave him a long, curious stare. "Are you following me?"

"Don't believe in coincidence, huh?"

"Not three times consecutively. No." Her eyes narrowed slowly, her expression becoming guarded. "What do you-- why are you following me?"

'Because there's an Immortal who wants to kill you and I want to know why,' didn't sound exactly like the appropriate answer. Richie shrugged, feigning indifference, and gave her a smile. "Would you believe that it's because I want to have dinner with you?"

It wasn't exactly a lie. Just an omission of the truth. Actually having dinner with her was a very appealing idea. More than appealing.

"Are you asking me out to dinner?" She seemed surprised by this turn of events. It was hard for him to imagine that invitations like this weren't the norm for her.

"Unless you have something against Americans."

"Only the ones that follow me into bookstores," Ami shook her head, long braids brushing her shoulders, and headed further up the aisle. Richie noticed that she cast a sideways glance back at him, and took that as an invitation to follow.

"Is that a yes or a no?" He fell into step behind her.

The young woman spun to face him. "I don't even know you."

"That's why we have dinner. I get to know you. You get to know me…"

"I -- I can't." Ami turned again, ready to head away, but this time he was faster.

Richie slipped in front of her impeding her progress. "It's the haircut, isn't it? You know, I told Mac that women just don't like the haircut, and he told me I was wrong. He's my best friend, and he lied to me. I can't believe it." Richie leaned against the bookcase, doing his best to look chagrined.

"It's not the haircut."

Richie straightened up, and looked down at himself. Wearing a long leather jacket and faded jeans, he definitely was not one of Calvin Klein's latest models. "The jacket? It's the jacket isn't it? I can get rid of it--"

Ami giggled, a smile appearing on her face. "It's not the jacket."

"It's not the haircut, or the jacket?"

"No."

Richie scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You just don't like Americans?"

"One of my best friends is American," Ami rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You're good."

"That means you'll have dinner with me?"

"I don't know you. You could be a crazy, psychotic serial killer who--who-- chops his victims up and buries them in the backyard."

"Considering my backyard is an alley back in the States, you don't really have to worry about that."

"Are you always this insistent?"

"Only when I see something I really want. And I really, really want to have dinner with you."

She folded her arms across her chest, staring at him. Finally, she smiled. "Fine, but on one condition."

"Anything?"

"You don't follow me anymore."

Richie smiled. To the victor go the spoils. "Consider it done."

Chapter Five

Of the two young men seated on opposite sides of the chessboard, only one looked up when Ami appeared in the space where only a few moments before there had been empty air.

"Hello, Ami." Adam greeted her with a smile and a nod.

"Hey Ami." Megabyte threw his hand in the air, giving her a half-wave. He didn't look around or pull his eyes from the chessboard. Biting his lip in concentration, the American's hand hovered over various chess pieces as he debated which to move.

Ami dropped to her knees between her two fellow Tomorrow People. "Who's winning?"

Megabyte snorted. "As if you really have to ask?"

"With a self-defeatist attitude like that, it's no wonder Adam usually wins."

Megabyte ignored her. Mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, he moved his bishop.

Ami gave the chessboard a cursory glance and cringed. Megabyte had just handed the game to Adam.

"Sorry, Megabyte." Adam offered his apology as he moved his piece. "Checkmate."

"I must be a glutton for punishment," the redhead grumbled.

"Another game?" Adam offered.

Megabyte rolled his eyes. "Right, Adam. Allow me to escape with at least some of my dignity." He turned his attention to Ami. "So, what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Thanks, Megabyte." Ami gave him a slightly exasperated shake of her head. "It's always a pleasure to know that I'm welcome here."

The boy paled, then turned a light shade of pink. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that I thought you were having lunch with your Mum."

"We did have lunch. Now we're done." Ami settled back on her haunches. "I did want to talk to you guys about something though."

The seriousness of her tone caught both of their attention.

Adam nodded, giving her his full attention. "Sure, Ami. What's the problem?"

"I met this boy today--"

Megabyte snickered. "Sorry, Ami. Shouldn't you gossip with Jade?"

"Megabyte, I'm serious. This is important."

Adam gave their friend a dark glare. "Go on, Ami. Just ignore Megabyte if he can't be serious for a few minutes."

"He seems nice enough and all but…there's something about him. Something different."

Adam shifted, his shoulders tensing slightly. "Different how? You think he might be one of us?"

"No," Ami shook her head, once again struggling to wrap her mind around the elusive psychic signature she received from Richie. "He's not a Tomorrow Person. I'm not sure what it is, I mean, maybe it's nothing."

"Or maybe it's something," Adam interjected. "If it has you worried, it shouldn't be ignored."

"I'm not really worried. It's just a little odd." Ami paused. "I was wondering if you guys would mind meeting him? Tell me if I'm totally nuts or if there's something else about this guy."

Megabyte raised an eyebrow. "Boy, have you got it bad."

Ami fought back the wave of embarrassment that washed over her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right, Ami."

Adam overrode Megabyte. "Sure, Ami. We'll be glad to meet him. It should be interesting."

"Yeah," Megabyte muttered. "Absolutely intriguing."

Chapter Six

The telephone insistently demanded Richie's attention as he raced into the hotel room. Leaving the door half-open and nearly tripping over several pieces of furniture, he raced across the room and over the bed to snatch it from the cradle.

"Hello?" Richie panted into the telephone.

"Richie. It's Joe."

"Oh." Richie felt his heart sink. Not that he wasn't happy to hear from Joe; maybe the Watcher had information. But he had been more hoping to hear a soft, clipped British accent belonging to a certain young female.

"Thanks," Joe commented dryly. "I thought you wanted my information."

"I do, Joe. I'm sorry." Richie apologized, sitting on the bed. "I was expecting another phone call."

"Female, I suppose?" Richie could hear the laughter and speculation in the Watcher's voice.

"Could be."

There was a pause while Joe waited for more, but Richie refused to play the old man's game. Not today anyway. Finally, Joe spoke again, his tone very crisp and business- like. Richie could almost see the man leaning against the bar back in Seacouver, his face drawn into a mask of thoughtfulness. "There's only one Immortal in the area who fits your description, Richie. A woman named Maris Keillor."

"Assassin? IRA maybe?"

"No, nothing like that. She worked as a volunteer at a hospital a few years back -- a children's hospital. She also did work with orphanages. The woman loves children."

"Joe, it was a high-powered rifle. Trust me on this. She aimed it right in my face, so I got a pretty good look at it. She may like kids, but she hates anyone over the age of thirteen."

"If you say you saw her, Rich, I'll believe you. But I'm telling you. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't fit her profile."

"Then look some more. There has to be something there."

"We are still looking. There are a few connections that we haven't checked out yet. She did work for a woman named Mulvaney a few years previously. Lady Mulvaney seems to have been under surveillance by several government agencies, so that might mean something."

"Yeah," Richie agreed. "Like maybe that's where she got her rifle-training."

"What about that girl you wanted me to check out? Did you find anything else on her?"

"Yeah. I have her last name." Richie wiped the foolish grin off his face as he thought of Ami. "It's Jackson. Ami Jackson. I think she's on the up and up, though. Grounded, down to earth--"

"Pretty?"

"Oh, yeah. You should see her, Joe. She's got this smile that just--" the young Immortal stopped suddenly, hearing the light laughter on the other end of the telephone line. "Laugh all you want, Joe. I don't really care this time."

"Seeing how you're obviously smitten beyond rational thought, maybe I should remind you that we know about Maris; we don't know about this Ami Jackson. There might be more to her than meets the eye. If Maris wanted to kill her --- there has to be a connection somewhere. So be careful."

"I always am."

"I'll call you back when I have more information. You will be there tonight?"

Richie smiled brightly, although he knew the Watcher couldn't see him. "Well, I do have plans, but I should be able to pencil you in."

"Watch your back, Richie."

Didn't he always?

Chapter Seven

Richie leaned against the wall of the movie theatre. He resisted the urge to check his watch, knowing that he was early anyway. The thing was, he was feeling like he was back in high school again--and terrified that Ami might decide not to show up after all. He kept telling himself that his reasons for being here were purely innocent. If Joe was right, and the mysterious Immortal was Maris Keillor, and Maris Keillor wasn't the sort to decide to assassinate innocent civilians, then there was definitely more going on here than met the eye. That was what he tried to tell himself.

The truth wasn't quite as clear and unmuddied. From the first time he saw her at the airport, Richie Ryan had been attracted to Ami. He didn't know why; she couldn't have been more than a day over nineteen, and she wasn't his normal type. She wasn't worldly and experienced but she had a certain charm that made it hard for him to think straight.

Richie realized he was smiling like a lunatic and wiped the smile from his face.

Ami had made the arrangements. He was to meet her here where she had already planned to enjoy the evening with some of her friends. Richie would have preferred to meet her alone; at least then, he might have been able to figure out some way to broach the subject of Maris. But, if this built her trust in him, then this would be an important first step.

He was, however, growing increasingly impatient. And he was just about to think that he'd mixed up Ami's clearly worded instructions when laughter made him turn his head. And once again, his breath caught.

Ami raised her hand in a wave, flanked on both sides by her friends. Two male, and one female, and all of them not a day over twenty. No, Richie had to reconsider as they neared, the boy on Ami's left, tall and thin with dark hair, seemed to be the oldest of the group; in fact, Richie might have placed his age a few years above Ami's, and certainly several years above the young blonde who giggled on Ami's right.

"Richie, sorry we're late," Ami smiled at him as the group halted in a small semi-circle around him.

"It was my fault," the blonde shrugged, smiling. "I couldn't find anything to wear."

"It's a movie, Jade. It's dark. Who cares what you're wearing?" That came from the redhead in the group. His American accent took Richie by surprise.

That must be Ami's American best friend.

"Guys," Ami looked back and forth between the young blonde, Jade, and the unnamed redhead. "Please."

"While they're going for one another's throats, I'm Adam." The tall dark haired young man held his hand out to Richie. "And you're Richie."

Richie shook his hand hesitantly. Not out of fear, but again he was caught by surprise. He wasn't particularly good with accents, but Adam's didn't sound very English, Scottish, Irish…or anything in their area. "You're not from around here?"

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that Adam frowned slightly when their hands met. It passed so quickly though that Richie wondered if he had been imagining things after all.

"He's quick," the redhead quipped.

>From the corner of his eye, Richie saw Jade give him a sharp poke in the ribs.

Adam ignored them both. "No. I'm from Australia."

Richie filed the information for later use. There was definitely more here than met the eye. Two British girls, one Australian, and one American made quite a mismatched group. And their ages--the blonde had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen. Richie didn't recall hanging around with very many fourteen-year-olds when he was eighteen-- and he certainly would lose patience with one these days.

"And that's Jade, and that's Megabyte," Ami continued the introductions.

"Megabyte?" Richie repeated the name slowly.

"It's a nickname." The challenging look the younger boy shot him dared him to question it.

Richie didn't plan to question anything. Not yet at least. For the time being, this group would be interesting to watch.

Very interesting.

Chapter Eight

"So, what are you doing in England anyway?"

Richie was beginning to grow accustomed to Megabyte's bluntness. After the movie, the group headed over to the coffeehouse where they now found themselves, and the young American had made it plainly clear that Richie was not only not welcome, but not trusted either. However, Adam and Jade didn't seem to mind his presence, and they, along with Ami, made every attempt to make him feel welcome. For the most part it worked, although at times he got the peculiar feeling that there were things going on he couldn't see; several times it seemed almost as if the four knew what the others were thinking or were going to say long before the words left their lips. That sort of behavior Richie expected from old married couples -- not a group of young adults.

"What Megabyte means is, 'Why are you visiting London?' " Ami shot the redhead a very dangerous glare which Richie hoped never to be on the receiving end of.

Richie liked her, a little more than he wanted to. A little bit more than was considered wise. Particularly when he didn't know why Maris Keillor was after her, or whether or not it was merely coincidence that he encountered her twice since arriving in London. Coincidence or not, Richie couldn't deny the attraction to her; he could almost hear Joe and Mac teasing him about being suckered in by another pretty face.

He kept trying to tell himself that she was only eighteen, that this wasn't a road he wanted to travel, but his heart and libido decided that his brain had clearly taken leave of its senses, and set out to ignore any rational thought or argument he sent in that direction.

Richie smiled, probably foolishly, because he realized that he had been staring at her in silence for the space of a few breaths after she uttered her question. "I was delivering something for a friend."

"What?" Jade's couched her question in genuine curiosity and interest, not the suspicious tones he had become accustomed to hearing Megabyte use.

"He used to be an antiques dealer. He still purchases and sells antiques, so he had me drop a piece off to a dealer here in London."

Megabyte scoffed. It didn't surprise Richie. The boy seemed determined to counter every word that Richie spoke. "Antiques? What's the point? It's all old junk."

"Megabyte, antiques are a part of history." Adam stirred at his coffee thoughtfully. "If people didn't preserve them, we would lose a lot of history."

"Yeah, Adam. Whatever."

"Where are you from, Richie?" Jade continued her line of questioning. "New York? Los Angeles?"

Richie had to laugh. Why was it that it seemed as though everyone thought the only cities Americans came from were New York or LA? "Actually, I'm from Seacouver."

"Seacouver?" Megabyte questioned. "Nothing big about Seacouver."

"I've heard there's nothing big about Vermont either." Jade remarked tartly.

Richie definitely wondered about the group dynamics at work here.

"Are you going back to Seacouver soon?" Ami's voice drew his attention.

Somewhat reluctantly, Richie nodded. "In a few days. I was supposed to leave tomorrow--"

"Why aren't you?" Megabyte interjected.

"--But I decided to take a few extra days and see London." It took Richie a good deal of self-control to ignore the younger boy and keep speaking. "Maybe you can suggest some good sights to see?"

"I could show you around," Ami suggested. As she did, her voice dropped a few decibels, her eyes focusing on the tabletop.

"We all could. It would be fun." Jade added, then suddenly, her blue eyes widened in surprise as she stared across the table at Adam. Her cheeks flamed red, and she quickly looked down at her lap. "What I meant was--well--" She trailed off, looking for all the world as though there were a million other places she would like to be at that moment.

Richie looked from the tall Australian to the young girl. Somehow, somewhere, he was certain that he had missed something. Something vital and important. He understood the reason for Jade's words--she was behaving as if she had been chastised, but no one had said a word to her; no one had even looked at her cross-eyed.

"Yeah, why not?" Richie said in the silence. "I mean, if I don't say yes, I'll probably just end up bumping into you again, right Ami?"

"Or following me," she returned his smile easily.

Richie decided that smile was going to be the absolute death of him.

The remainder of the evening followed relatively congenially, at least as congenial as things could be with Megabyte doing his best to be difficult. The atmosphere was relaxed, and Richie found himself taking a liking to both Adam and Jade. However odd this group may be, his gut instinct told him that they belonged together.

The question that continued to plague him was what could have attracted the attention and the hatred of an Immortal?

Chapter Nine

Leaning against the lamppost, Adam only partially listened to the conversation between Jade and Megabyte. If one could call it a conversation; Jade continued to reprimand the other Tomorrow Person for his rude behavior, and Megabyte continued to deny that he had done anything wrong. Occasionally Jade would ask Adam's advice, and he would simply nod or mutter a general answer in their direction. Adam had other things on his mind at the moment; things he would prefer not to share with the other Tomorrow People until he had mulled them over more.

He watched as Ami talked to Richie a few feet away. She laughed every now and then, and would glance in the direction of her fellow Tomorrow People, but the distance was too great for him to make out the words. If Adam hadn't been a Tomorrow Person, if he hadn't possessed telepathy and empathy, he would have still be intensely aware of the fact that Ami was definitely taken with Richie Ryan. Now, that was an understatement if Adam had ever heard one.

It was odd watching her. It was like watching a movie that he didn't quite belong in. Ami had never been the sort to get coy and wide-eyed or giggly around the male populace. Adam mostly remembered her turning away from interested eyes with a kind, but firm smile and blink of the eyes. It was funny, but he had never imagined that Ami would take an interest in anyone and it felt odd to see it happening. It was odd to see how she seemed to almost hang on every word Richie spoke, and how she watched him covertly when she thought no one else was noticing. It wasn't Ami -- but then again, he supposed that it was.

Adam supposed that in his mind, he never imagined that the others would go off the deep end. Sure, Jade still harbored a half-felt crush on Megabyte, and Megabyte's attitude towards Ami at times made him wonder if the boy wasn't harboring a half-felt crush toward his fellow Tomorrow Person, but he never imagined the others would feel things like that. He never imagined that one day Ami, or Megabyte, or Jade might meet someone who affected him the same way Lucy Allen had; the same way a certain Scottish young woman had. But it was clear that he was short sighted; Richie Ryan held Ami by the heartstrings.

And that had him worried. But not for the reasons most would think.

"I think that you're jealous," Jade's words drifted to his ears.

"Of what? Him? Right, Jade." Still, Megabyte's response was clipped.

Adam turned his attention to the two. "Did you two sense it? What Ami was talking about?"

Megabyte blinked at him. "No. Ami was probably swooning."

"Are you sure you didn't feel anything unusual from Richie?" Adam had. Maybe it was because Ami had warned him, and he had been waiting for it. It was an elusive, nondescript feeling; different from the sense of his fellow Tomorrow People and a far different sense of awareness than that he received from non-telepaths. The psychic signature seemed to flare in and out, muddied, unclear and hard to read or pin down.

"You mean his how he feels to us? Psychically?" Jade asked.

Adam nodded. Jade was the youngest of the group, but she was learning. And, sometimes, like now, she was clearly more perceptive than Megabyte. "That's exactly what I mean."

Jade pondered a moment, her blue eyes clouding. Then she nodded. "It's like he's there but not there. I thought that maybe he just has naturally strong shields."

Adam considered. "It's a possibility. He might."

Which worried him even more. Not only had he picked up the odd psychic sense from Richie, but there were also images. Very strange, very disturbing images that he played round and round with in his mind. Dark, inexplicable images.

"You don't like him, do you Adam?"

"You're not jealous, are you pal?" Megabyte's teasing laughter wavered.

If he hadn't been so keenly going over his thoughts and the few images from Richie that plagued his mind, Adam might have taken that as a perfect opportunity to bait and tease Megabyte. As it was, he simply straightened up and shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that."

That, in fact, was the third strike. He did like Richie. The young man was engaging and fun. He was worldly, and he got along well with them -- all of them, even Megabyte who did his best to be dour. His gut instinct told him that there was nothing about Richie not to like; his gut instincts told him that Richie was not a danger to him. Richie wasn't even an emotional danger to Ami-- the American clearly returned her interest.

But the images and the innate knowledge Adam had gleaned from one handshake wouldn't disappear.

Still, now wasn't quite the time to share it with the others. Not until he knew more.

"Then what is it?" Jade asked quietly.

Megabyte added, "You've been distracted for most of the night."

"I'm just a little surprised at Ami is all." Adam gave them a wry smile, carefully guarding his troubled thoughts. "I've never seen her act like this before."

"I know," Jade sighed. "Isn't it sweet?"

Adam watched as Richie leaned forward and whispered in Ami's ear. She positively beamed at him before he waved in their direction and turned and headed in the opposite direction. Watching Ami approach, and watching Richie leave, Adam felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

He hoped there was an explanation. He hoped the random and chaotic images were wrong.

Because if they weren't -- then Richie Ryan wasn't what he appeared to be. It meant he had killed someone once -- with a very sharp, sharp sword.

And if that were true -- Adam didn't plan to allow him within one hundred miles of Ami or any of the other Tomorrow People.

Chapter Ten

The insistent ringing of the telephone literally dragged Richie from the depths of sleep. Eyes partially open, he listened to the repeated chiming, his mind trying to come to grips with the reason why his answering machine didn't appear to be functioning. As that thought formed and coalesced, reality also began to take shape, and he remembered where he was.

And why he was waiting on a telephone call.

Rolling over, Richie clumsily dragged the telephone from the cradle and lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Rich. Did I wake you up?" Joe sounded far too chipper for it to be the middle of the night.

Then again, in Seacouver, it wasn't the middle of the night.

"No, I only sleep when the sun's up, Joe."

Joe chuckled. "One good wake up call deserves another. I've been talking to some of our people in London."

The young Immortal shook off the last remnants of sleep. This could be the information he had been looking for. Sitting up, he turned on the lamp, forcing himself to focus on Joe's words. "And?"

"She's cute. But don't you think she's a little young, Richie?"

The heat that Richie felt rise to his cheeks made him glad that the Watcher couldn't see him. He didn't even have to think about asking what "she" Joe referred to. Simply thinking about her, remembering her smile and her quiet melodical voice was enough to make him smile like an idiot.

"She's eighteen," Richie defended himself. "She's not jail bait."

"And you, my friend, are twenty-three. I never thought you were the sort to take an interest in younger women."

Richie decided not to dignify the man's teasing with a response. Besides, Joe's reminder made him a little uncomfortable. He kept trying to tell himself the same thing-- she was too young, too inexperienced, but the more he repeated the litany, the more it seemed to have a reverse effect-- he wanted to see more of her. Ami Jackson intrigued him, and in many ways, she seemed a great deal older than her eighteen years. Still, if he didn't find out what Maris was up to, there wouldn't be anything for Joe to tease him about.

"Tell me what you found out, Joe."

"Nothing that makes a lot of sense." Joe paused and Richie could hear the shuffling of papers on the other end of the telephone. "Maris Keillor was born in 1371 in what is now Ireland. She spent her entire life helping others, although she does seem to adopt some rather fanatical beliefs at times."

"In English, Joe."

"She gets obsessed. And this is when her 'talents' as an assassin seem to come in. She has dedicated a great portion of her life to the pursuing Ireland's freedom. She also made a great many strikes against Germany in the World Wars. And a few times, her fanatical devotion has led her to side with what we would call the 'bad guys.'

"Anyway, about three to four years ago, she began working for an international government organization that technically doesn't exist. The Anglo-American Alliance of Paranormal Investigation."

Richie repeated the words slowly to himself. "The what?"

"They're a secretly funded agency that investigates paranormal phenomenon."

"Paranormal phenomenon? You mean like spaceships and ghosts?"

"Actually, the Anglo-American Alliance is mostly military funded. They are more interested in things which can be used on a military level-- mind reading, clairvoyance, telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation--"

Richie chuckled. "Sounds like these people could write a few episodes of the X-Files."

"It might sound off the wall, Richie. But billions of dollars have gone into this organization. Someone out there clearly believes that these things are possible."

"Hey, I know that, Joe. When I was a kid, I got really into a lot of that stuff. Man, I used to think that it would just be great to be able to teleport or move things with my mind," Richie remembered fondly. "I get the mind reading and stuff, but come on, teleportation? This isn't Star Trek."

"Some people would say the same thing about a race of people who live forever and create a pyrotechnics spectacle when they're killed," Joe reminded him dryly.

The remark sobered him, and again reminded him of why he was talking to Joe. "So, Maris worked for this organization. So what?"

"Well, she was soon afterwards drafted by a woman named Lady Mulvaney. Mulvaney is under suspicion of working with foreign powers to beat the Anglo-American Alliance in discovering these abilities within humans, but there is no proof."

The young Immortal reviewed the information in his head. "That still doesn't explain why Maris would want to kill Ami. Unless-- hey, Joe, did these people use like human subjects?" The thought of Ami being used as a lab rat somewhere sickened and angered him at the same time.

"I'm sure they do, Richie. The psychic abilities they're looking for can't be found in chimps and applied later." Joe shifted through the papers again. "I thought of that, but you can put your hackles down. No where in any of my files does it show that Ami Jackson ever met or came into contact with Lady Mulvaney. She's also never met Maris, but Maris apparently has been putting a lot of time and effort into knowing everything about Ami and some of her friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Maris has hired private investigators. They've been following Ami for months. And Ami's not the only one. There are three others that are under her surveillance as well."

Richie had the sinking feeling he knew who the three others were. "A blonde girl, and two boys?"

"Yeah." Joe paused sharply. "How'd you know that?"

"I met them tonight. Ami's friends, I mean." Richie chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a minute. "They're nice, but something about them is different. Really different; it's like they're not really normal teenagers. That's why I thought that maybe they'd been tested or used by these government people. But they haven't?"

"There is one connection between Ami's friends and Maris, but it's a stretch."

"What? I'll take anything you can give me, Joe."

"About two and half years ago, Ami Jackson was detained for questioning by the local authorities."

"What?" Richie thought about the young woman he'd met and shook his head in disbelief. "She's not like that, Joe. She's not--"

"Let me finish, Richie. She was questioned about a kidnapping she had witnessed. A young boy was removed from his hospital room. Ami, and her two friends, the two Maris is watching, Adam Newman and --"

"Megabyte," Richie finished.

"Marmaduke Damon," Joe continued as if Richie hadn't spoken.

Richie smirked. "Marmaduke? No wonder he goes by Megabyte."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry."

"Well, nothing ever came of it. The boy turned up at his aunt's home, and the case was neatly closed and filed away by World Ex Securities -- "

"Aren't they like the International CIA or something?"

"Richie, you really should watch the news more often." Joe sighed. "World Ex is dedicated to maintaining international peace and security. At least on the surface. But yes, they do seem to have a lot of international connections in places they technically shouldn't."

"So, why did World Ex get involved?"

"The investigation was headed by a General William Damon."

Richie made the connection. "He wouldn't be related to Megabyte would he?"

"He's the boy's father. General Damon also worked with the Anglo-American Alliance for a short while."

The cold hand gripping Richie's insides tightened its grip. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. "So, maybe General Damon knows Maris Keillor?"

"It's a distinct possibility. But it still doesn't explain her behavior."

"Looks like there's only one way to find out."

"Richie don't do anything stupid."

"Hey, Joe, you know me."

"Like I said, don't do anything stupid."

Chapter Eleven

General William Damon quietly settled into his seat, laying a rather thick manila folder onto the top of his desk. He drummed his fingers lightly on the folder, his eyes focused on the young man seated on the opposite side of the desk. "Now, Adam, do you mind telling me who this young man is, and why you felt it so urgently necessary that I do a background check on him?"

Adam shifted in his seat, his dark eyes flickering toward the folder beneath the General's fingers. He really had not wanted to come to General Damon with this; whenever possible, it seemed best to keep the General out of the loop. Not because the man couldn't be trusted; the Tomorrow People could trust him. They could trust him to protect them, and shelter them and treat them like they were children caught in a house fire. And they could trust him to worry himself into a few gray hairs. No matter how many scrapes they got into and out of, or how many times they actually aided him, he still saw them as -- well, children.

Unfortunately, there had been no other way to get the information he wanted on Richie Ryan. He was certain that Megabyte and Ami might have been able to dig most of it out via computer, but he didn't want to reveal his suspicions to them. After all, he kept telling himself, there was a good chance that those suspicions were unfounded. There wasn't any reason to worry anyone at the moment; particularly not Ami. The American with the unusual psychic aura had smitten his friend, and Adam didn't want to mar that in anyway. It was so seldom that they had the opportunity to be normal and to experience normal lives that Adam didn't want to take that away from Ami if he didn't have to. And she would never forgive him if he was wrong.

"He's a friend of Ami's," Adam replied carefully. "He's different."

"Different? Different how?"

Adam shrugged. He hated to admit when he didn't have an answer. "I don't know. But he reads differently than other people."

It took the General a moment to understand Adam's words. "You think that he's one of you?"

"No," Adam answered quickly. "He's definitely not one of us." Then he leaned forward, indicating the folder. "I take it I'm not going to like what's in that report, am I General?"

General Damon leaned back, picking up the report and opening it to the first page. "No, you're not. Even without knowing what it is you're hiding from me, and I know you're hiding something, I don't like what's in it myself."

Adam rested his arms on the General's desk. He realized that if he wanted to get any answers, he was going to have to "come clean" as Megabyte would say. That didn't mean, however, that he had to tell the man everything. "It was just a feeling I had when I met him. That something's not quite right. That maybe he's not what he seems to be. And Ami is very fond him, so---"

"So, you didn't want to spill your suspicions until you had verification?"

Adam nodded. Sometimes, he forgot how insightful Megabyte's father could be. "Yes, that's it. If I'm wrong, I really don't think Ami would be happy with me."

The Tomorrow Person knew that he didn't imagine the concern that clouded the General's face. He stared down at the folder a long moment, then looked at Adam again. "Ami's not in the middle of this, is she?"

"No, it's nothing like that. She only met him a few days ago at the airport. But it's a bit obvious that she's -- " Adam paused, trying to find the right word. 'Crush' just didn't seem to fit Ami's feelings for Richie.

"--Been hit hard with cupid's arrow?" General Damon offered.

"You could say that."

"In that case, you have even more reason not to like what's in this report." The General leaned forward, opening the folder and spreading its contents on the desk. On the very top of the pile of papers was a photocopy of a passport and some documents written in French. "I don't know who this person is, but he is not Richard Ryan."

Adam stared down at the report and its contents. The face staring back from the passport was the same face that he met the day before. The hair was shorter, the features were somewhat harder, but if it were possible, Adam would swear that the face hadn't changed at all. "That's him."

"That can't be him, it may be someone who looks like him. But it's not him." General Damon motioned to the documents which Adam couldn't read. "These are police, hospital, and coroner's reports, Adam. Richard Ryan was killed in a motorcycle accident in France back in 1995. He died on the scene, suffering from massive head trauma, internal bleeding, and third degree burns over ninety-three percent of his body.

"When you gave me the name, it sounded familiar. I didn't know why until I saw these reports. I'd taken Megabyte down there to see the race trials; he had a thing about motorcycles back then. When we arrived, the ambulances and police were there. We heard that a French national and an American had been killed. The next day, it was in the papers."

"General, I swear, this is the same Richie." Adam stared at the passport photograph. "It has to be him."

"People don't survive that sort of trauma Adam. And we've got the documentation to prove it."

"Then why would someone want to pretend to be Richie Ryan?" Adam put the passport copy aside, his eyes on the General.

"Now that is the question, isn't it?" General Damon shuffled through a few more pieces of paper. He produced a birth certificate, and several other forms. "Richard Ryan was orphaned at the age of five and placed into a number of foster homes. Actually, the child was in and out of foster homes with the frequency that most of us change our socks. He was considered one of the problem children, a loose cannon. By the time he was fifteen, he had a rap sheet as long as my arm."

"A rap sheet?" Adam tried to poke through the American slang.

"A police record. Richie spent a great deal of time in the Seacouver police department and at juvenile hall. Petty theft, burglary, breaking and entering, assault and battery, I'd have to say his most minor offense was underage drinking. Anyway, he dropped out of school, and fell through the cracks in the system."

"Doesn't sound like it's a very good system," Adam muttered, his eyes glancing over the various police reports. It didn't sound like a very happy or pleasant life; it didn't excuse turning around and killing someone, but it certainly explained why someone might be bitter enough to do it.

But, Adam reflected, the Richie that he met hadn't been bitter or hateful at all. He'd been relaxed and calm; too relaxed and calm for someone who had lived the sort of life that the General was describing.

"People have been complaining about the social services system for years, Adam. It doesn't get them anywhere." General Damon snorted with some disgust. "But, you can't fix the wiring if you can't afford to pay the electrician."

Adam glossed over a police report which depicted a rather surly faced youth in a bandana. Younger, but definitely Richie. "So, how does this Richie Ryan," Adam flashed the picture at General Damon, "become the Richie Ryan who dies in a motorcycle accident? And who is pretending to be a dead man?"

"I'm getting to that." Again, General Damon leafed through some papers. "Back in 1991, Richie Ryan gets the brilliant idea to rob an antiques shop. Noel and MacLeod Antiques to be precise--Adam, what is it?"

At the mention of the word antiques, Adam felt his heart constrict. The conversation from last night played over in his mind.

_"He used to be an antiques dealer. He still purchases and sells antiques, so he had me drop a piece off to a dealer here in London."_

"Richie mentioned antiques. He said he had a friend who used to be an antiques dealer. It just seems like a really strange coincidence."

The General nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. Because it's not coincidence."

"What do you mean?"

General Damon produced a picture, a black and white photograph. In it, a very attractive couple, a petite blonde woman and a dark haired man, smiled for the camera. "Tessa Noel and Duncan MacLeod. When you do a background check, it's sometimes helpful if you check out the people associated with your subject. Noel was a French national, living in Seacouver with MacLeod. They were never married, but they owned what must have been a very profitable antiques business, because MacLeod has a considerable amount of wealth."

"Noel and MacLeod. That's the store Richie broke into, right?"

"And that's where Ryan's luck changed. MacLeod and Noel never pressed charges. Instead, they took him in. He lived with them, he worked with them, he traveled with them."

"Kind of like an odd sort of family?"

"Probably the only family that Ryan ever knew."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Like I said, I did some checking on Noel and MacLeod. Tessa Noel was everything she appeared to be. A French national, a talented artist, and MacLeod's lover."

Adam caught the use of the past tense. "You said was."

"She was killed in a mugging about a year and half after she and MacLeod 'adopted' Ryan."

Adam stared down at the grainy black and white again. This time his eyes were drawn to the woman, smiling and radiant, full of life and enthusiasm. It saddened him to think that a life that brilliant had been snuffed out so easily and purposelessly.

"I know," the General spoke softly, echoing his thoughts. "That's how I felt. It really was a waste."

"What happened then?" Adam was still staring at the picture; he was trying to reconcile the smiling woman with the dark images he received from Richie. There was no way that anyone with this woman's influence in his life could do anything that dark.

"MacLeod sold the antiques shop. Moved back to Paris, took Ryan with him." General Damon gently tugged the photograph from Adam's hands, and handed him another police report. "MacLeod's the interesting one. His name has come up several time in police investigations."

"What sort of police investigations?" Adam had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

"Murder investigations. Homicides." The General sat back, clearly wondering if he should say more. Adam met the man's gaze levelly, calmly waiting. "You really don't want to hear anymore, Adam."

"Yes, General. I do. I have to."

"Duncan MacLeod was called in for questioning on a number of beheadings."

-- The flash of a sword swinging through the air, slowly descending -- the flash of a face, staring upwards in resignation -- then brightness, lightening, a storm brewing -- sightless eyes staring upwards from a severed corpse --

Adam blocked the remembered image. He noticed his hands were trembling and he clasped them together to still them. The calm of his voice actually surprised him. "Isn't that a bit grisly?"

"A bit? It's very grisly. But it's not as uncommon as you might think." General Damon stood and crossed over to the water cooler. "All of the world, for years, at least since this sort of thing has been recorded, there seems to be a phenomenon of some sort of ritualistic decapitations."

"You mean this is a normal method of killing people?" Adam was repelled.

"Well, it doesn't happen everyday," General Damon poured himself a glass of water. "But it happens frequently enough to not be discarded as a random fluke. There are two schools of thought on the matter. One that it's some sort of cult or quasi-religious thing; two, that it's a very elite, very chameleon like crime organization--it would have to be to have branches all over the world.

"I've studied the accounts, and I fall into the second school of thought. Particularly when most of those who are questioned fall into the same category with Duncan MacLeod. No blood relations, and a past so clean as to be unbelievable. Most of these people, even the victims, don't even have medical records.

"Instead of the typical bullet to the head or drowning, this organization uses decapitation."

Adam shivered and not from cold. He didn't want to ask the next question, but he had to. "How? Do they use swords?"

The General paused, half-way between sitting in his seat. He made no attempt to hide the surprise that flashed across his features. "Adam, what exactly do you know about this? How do you know about the swords? What does this Ryan character have to do with the Tomorrow People?"

"If it was some sort of criminal organization, then they would be able to change identities, right? Maybe even stage someone's death?" Adam ignored the General's questions. He was beginning to feel quite sick to his stomach. His only relief was knowing that Ami was spending the day with her mother and was no where near Richie Ryan, or whoever he truly was.

"There are pictures in this report, pictures of the body. There is no way that was staged. He's dead. Whoever this person is, it's not Richie Ryan. But yes, an organization with the clout and power to stay hidden all these years could recreate an individual."

-- The flash of a sword swinging through the air, slowly descending -- the flash of a face, staring upwards in resignation --

"And that would make a pretty efficient assassin, wouldn't it?"

"I want to know everything that you know about Ryan, Adam. And I want to know it now."

Adam shook his head, standing. He had to talk to Ami. It was entirely possible that Richie wasn't a threat to her, but he couldn't afford to take any chances. "I'm sorry, General. I really have to go."

"Adam--"

"Good-bye, General." Then closing his eyes, he focused his mind and disappeared in a bright flash of light.

The last thing he heard before he disappeared, was the General speaking into the intercom, "Frank. I need to see you. Now."

Chapter Twelve

Maris Keillor was an easy target. Following her was child's play, and Richie couldn't help but think that perhaps that was a bad sign. He stayed out of sensing range, so he knew she couldn't have sensed him, but it was entirely possible that she had glimpsed him from afar. Still, there was no other way to find out what she was up to and he didn't have anything better to do with his time anyway.

Ami was spending the day shopping with her mother. While she hadn't sounded particularly pleased about the prospect, Richie got the idea that her mother wore iron gloves and that Ami bowed to the woman's whims more often than not. Of course, he found it hard to imagine Ami being argumentative with anyone-- well, aside from Megabyte-- something else that he found charming about her. Not that she would bend to his will, Richie was relatively certain that she had other ways of communicating her displeasure, but she wouldn't be the loud, shrieking, scene making type.

He bit into the deli sandwich, lounging against the wall of the plain gray building. Across the street was World Ex Securities and Maris Keillor had disappeared inside about ten minutes ago. Richie had considered trying the "delivery boy" routine, but realized how risky it would be. At least from here, he could manage to stay out of range of her buzz, but inside the building-- he just might give himself away.

There. He saw Maris's car pull out from the garage. Only now, a man was seated in the backseat with her. It was hard to tell from this distance, but there didn't seem to be anything particularly memorable about him. But the woman was on the move again.

Richie tossed the last remnants of the sandwich into the trash, regretting the loss of those last few bites. However, he reminded himself, he had a job to do. He climbed on board the rented motorcycle, and donning his helmet, eased himself into traffic, following behind the sedan.

* * * * * *

"Ami, you're a million miles away," Mrs. Jackson snapped her fingers in front of her daughter, grabbing the young woman's attention. "Whatever is on your mind today?"

Ami smiled sheepishly. "It's nothing Mum."

"Nothing, mm?" Mrs. Jackson folded her arms across her chest, eyeing her daughter speculatively. "This nothing wouldn't have to do with that American boy that you met would it?"

"No, Mum. It doesn't have anything to do with him." Ami couldn't stop the smile that formed on her face as she thought of him, however. "And he has a name. It's Richie."

"Richie. Richie. What sort of name is Richie? The next thing you're going to tell me is that he's in a rock band or something."

"No. He races motorcycles." Ami lifted a forkful of salad to her mouth with a smug smile.

"Motorcycles! Do you have any idea how dangerous those things are?"

Ami shook her head and rolled her eyes, allowing her mother to follow another one of her "worried-about-my-baby-girl" tangents. It gave Ami a moment to focus her thoughts inward and concentrate on what was really distracting her.

She really did wish that the only thing occupying her mind at that moment was a certain twenty-year-old blue-eyed American. Richie Ryan had been the last thought on her mind when she drifted off to sleep last night, and the first thing she thought about this morning. Which was odd, because Ami had always sworn to herself that she was not going to get all doe-eyed and weak-kneed over some boy. There were other things to worry about-- like school, classes and the Tomorrow People. Yet, she couldn't deny the warmth that she felt when she thought about Richie.

But it wasn't Richie that preoccupied her thoughts at this particular moment. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong but she didn't know precisely what it was. The others were fine, Adam was a bit distracted, but he was perfectly fine. He had mentioned wanting to talk to her this evening, without Jade and Megabyte, but that wasn't the source of her worry. It was unusual for Adam, but not enough to warrant the tight knot of fear that was developing in her stomach.

Knowing the others were all right, she had taken a moment to call Richie. He was a bit sleep laden, explaining that a friend from the states had called him in the middle of the night, but again, there was no source for her worry and fear. They had made plans to meet tomorrow, and then she had allowed him to crawl back into bed.

Then it happened. She felt a sharp prickling in her neck, almost like being jabbed with a needle. Crying out, she slapped her neck and jumped to her feet. "Ow!"

"Ami--" her mother's concerned voice came to her down a long tunnel.

The restaurant swam before her vision, blurring and fading. She gripped the sides of the table, steadying herself. She knew that these sensations were not hers, that they belonged to one of the others--

[It's Megabyte,] Adam's telepathic touch on her mind gave her something solid to focus on.

[Adam!] Megabyte's panicked cry was weak.

An image followed the weak cry. Just a flash. A gun going off. And Richie; Richie falling with a pool of red in the center of his chest.

"Richie," Ami whispered, her vision slowly beginning to clear. "Richie."

[Ami. We need you.] Adam's voice was sharp and commanding.

"Ami, what's going on?" Her mother demanded. People in the restaurant were turning to stare at them.

[I'm coming, Adam.] She turned to her mother, putting a firm lock on her feelings, on the sickening fear she felt for Richie. "Mum, I have to go."

"Oh no you don't. That Tomorrow People business will just have to--"

"No, Mum. Megabyte's in trouble. I have to go." She turned and hurried out of the restaurant, fervently hoping that she wasn't too late.

Chapter Thirteen

Megabyte's appearance in the front hall caused his sister's dog to begin barking at him. He glared at it, "Shut up, mutt."

Odd. No one came to see why the dog was barking. But then again, his mother and sister were on a shopping excursion and his father probably wasn't home. General Damon seldom had time in his busy schedule to devote a few hours to his family.

"Dad?" Megabyte still called out his father's name tentatively.

"In the office, Megabyte."

The response surprised him. Well, if his father was home, maybe it meant that they would actually have dinner together tonight. Wouldn't that be a pleasant deviation from the norm?

The Tomorrow Person froze in the doorway to his father's office.

His father sat in front of the desk, handcuffed. Beside him was a woman with flowing red-hair and the most piercing, yet cold blue eyes Megabyte had ever seen. She wore a short skirted business suit, and looked like the typical office executive. Aside from the gun she had pressed to his father's temple. He was pretty sure that most his the World Ex employees didn't walk around threatening their superiors with guns.

"So nice of you to join us, Marmaduke." The woman purred, her voice a mixture of various different accents, but mostly Irish.

Megabyte calculated how quickly he could teleport to his father and get him out of the room.

"Don't even think about trying your little disappearing trick. Unless you think that you can teleport over to your father, and teleport both of you away from here before I pull the trigger." She inclined her head towards the door. "And if you look behind you, you will see that I don't travel alone."

Megabyte didn't have to look behind him to feel the cold steel of gun butt pressed against his neck. "Who--who are you?"

"I'm the one with the gun. I'm the one who'll ask the questions."

"Maris Keillor, Marmaduke. She worked with Mulvaney and Masters." General Damon supplied the answer to his son's question. "Apparently, she has decided to go into business for herself."

The woman, Maris, glared at the General. "I always thought that Masters and Mulvaney never gave you enough credit, General. But then again, they never gave me or the Tomorrow People enough either."

"So this is about me, then?" Megabyte cast a worried glance at his father. He wasn't worried about his own safety, but he had to get this woman away from his father. He thought about calling for the others, but if this lunatic was trying to catch the Tomorrow People, the less she knew about the others, the better.

"Oh my, what a large ego we have, Marmaduke." She yanked the General to his feet, keeping the gun aimed. "This is about all of you. All four of you. I almost had the Jackson girl, but I encountered a little interference which caused me to alter my plans. But really, it does work out so much better this way. You'll understand that it's really nothing personal, but I really can't allow your group to live. It would be too dangerous to people of my nature and demeanor."

Megabyte decided that the woman was a certifiable loon. Which meant that he and his father were in considerable more danger than he had originally thought. "You don't think you're going to use me as bait?"

"I know that I am going to use you, and your father, as bait."

"But why? I mean, you just told me that you're going to kill me, so why would I even cooperate?"

"He's got a point, Maris." The General remarked. "I didn't exactly raise my son to be an idiot."

"No, but you raised him to be weak, Damon. You're his daddy. And I've got a gun to your head." Maris nodded to her guards, "Let's get them out of here. And don't let the boy anywhere near his father."

They were halfway to the front door when the woman came to a sudden and complete halt. All the color drained from her face and lifted her head as though expecting something to materialize out of thin air. Her posture and stance seemed to grow more rigid, and she glanced anxiously around the front hall. "I know you're there. You may as well come out."

"Oh boy, is she gone," Megabyte muttered under his breath.

"I know you're out there," the woman repeated. "And in case you can't tell, I have a man here who has a gun pressed to his temple. I will blow his head off. Now, show yourself."

"So, why don't you let him go and pick on someone your own size?" the voice sounded vaguely familiar to Megabyte.

The entire group turned to the right to see Richie Ryan step into the hallway.

"Richie?" Megabyte's voice croaked. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, kid, relax with the questions. I'm not the one at gun point," Richie pointed out.

"You're Ryan?" Megabyte heard his father's surprised question.

Megabyte wondered how his father knew about Richie; and why he knew about Richie.

"Enough talk." Maris ordered. "Frisk him." She stared at the American for a long moment. "You just don't learn do you, Mr. Ryan?"

"I'm afraid I don't Miss Keillor." Richie held his arms up and allowed the guards to search his person. To Megabyte's amazement, the young man didn't even appear bothered by the search at gunpoint; nor did he seem to care when the guard removed a long metallic object from his coat. "Mac always said that I have a hard head."

The object was a sword.

"A sword," General Damon commented dryly.

"A sword?" Megabyte shook his head. "You broke in with a sword."

"Marmaduke, be quiet." The urgency in his father's voice surprised him.

Instead of laughing at the sword, Maris handed the General to one of the guards and took the sword in her hands. "If either Damon or his son even sneezes, shoot them."

"We won't be much use to you dead, Maris."

"I didn't tell them to kill you, Damon. I told them to shoot you." The woman held the sword out and admired it. Her voice purred as she ran her fingers along the blade. "English broadsword. It's a marvelous weapon, do you weld your sword with skill and expertise, Mr. Ryan?"

"I've never had any complaints."

Megabyte felt himself blush at the only slightly couched innuendo.

"Mac? Would that be Duncan MacLeod, Ryan?"

"You know him?"

"Was he your teacher or something?"

"Hey, when only the best will do--"

"Then it would really be a shame to have to kill you. You see, Duncan and I were very old, very close friends." Maris circled Richie with the sword, running the blade lightly across his torso. "I would really hate to upset Duncan."

"Well, then it's a good thing that I don't plan on letting you kill me." Richie eyed her. "Um, Mac never mentioned you, by the way. He couldn't have been that impressed."

In a flash, she pressed the blade against his throat. "Don't tempt me, boy. You've gotten in my way twice. I don't know what your game is, but it's a very foolish one, and you are a very foolish little boy. I don't want your head, so if you stay out of my way, you'll get to keep it."

"Hey, lady, no arguments there. I kind of like it where it is myself." Richie's eyes darted to the blade then back to her. "But, um, maybe you could just tell me why you want the kid and his dad? Oh, yeah, and why you were trying to take out Ami?"

Megabyte blinked. He couldn't have heard right. He started to say something, then remembered his father's warning. But whatever was going on right now-- it was weird. Normal people didn't talk like this; normal people didn't carry around swords as their only protection either.

"Does she mean something to you, Ryan?"

"Does she mean something to you, Keillor?"

"Enough talk." She turned to the guards and nodded. "It's time to take a trip. And it's time for a little nap. A shame that Mr. Ryan won't be joining us."

The scene unfolded too quickly for Megabyte's mind to clear focus in on what happened. He felt a sharp pricking to his neck and his vision began to swim. At the same moment, Maris turned, and raising her gun, she pointed it at Richie's chest and shot. The young man stumbled backwards, a pool of deep red forming on the front of his shirt.

Megabyte was losing consciousness. His dad was in trouble. Richie was hurt. [Adam!]

Then he was swallowed up by darkness.

Chapter Fourteen

The three figures materialized in the empty front hall of the Damon home. The door stood slightly ajar, the muted purple and pink of the sunset filling the opening and painting the hall in somber tones. The dog cowered under the table, whimpering. He gave a half-hearted bark at the sudden arrivals, but did not venture forward. A quick, cursory glance around told them that no one was home, and that Megabyte's assailants were gone.

"Shh, Duke, it's all right." Jade knelt down, her voice a soft coo. She extended a hand to the frightened dog. "Come on Duke. It's all right. Come on out."

While Jade tried to calm the dog, Ami and Adam looked around the front hall. Ami peered through the door into the empty yard. "No sign of anything or anyone."

"Let's try to reach Megabyte," Adam suggested. "If he can answer us, he may give us some clue as to where he is."

"And if he can't?" The dog nuzzled Jade's hand. Her voice quavered and Duke gave a little whimper.

"We have to try, Jade," Ami told her.

The youngest Tomorrow Person nodded in agreement, rising from where she had been petting the dog. She was half stooping, half-standing when all the color drained from her face. "Adam--"

Adam turned, a sickening feeling rising up in his stomach. He had a feeling that he didn't want to see whatever Jade was seeing. He followed her line of vision, noticing for the first time the few drops of blood in the front hallway. Steeling his stomach, he stepped over in that direction, Ami and Jade right on his heels.

"Stay here," Adam cautioned them, stepping into the room.

Though he steeled himself, the sight still took him by surprise. His heart lunged and his stomach clenched, and he fought to hang onto his lunch.

The mysterious American known as Richie Ryan lay on the floor on his back. The front center of his shirt was stained a dark, deep maroon red. His skin was deathly pale, and he was eerily still.

"Richie!" Ami's cry from behind him was strangled. Her emotional reaction was so powerful that Adam had to slam his mental shields tightly in place to not echo her horror and sorrow.

"Oh, no, Richie." Jade's cry was no less surprised, and the girl seemed to teeter between crying and fleeing.

Adam took a deep breath and slowly approached the body, his mind already working over the puzzle. Who, or what sort of sick person would kill Richie Ryan, and leave his body while taking Megabyte and the General?

Tentatively, trying to ignore the gaping hole in Richie's blood-soaked shirt, and the blood-soaked shirt itself, Adam searched for a pulse in the neck. He knew the effort was futile-- Richie Ryan had been dead the moment Megabyte sent them that flash. It surprised him that skin so pale was still warm to the touch; he hadn't been dead long enough for all of his body heat to escape.

He could feel the tension from Jade and Ami, and an overwhelming sorrow that no doubt came from Ami. Adam felt a bit of sorrow himself; he didn't trust Richie, and he didn't like what he'd learned about him, but he certainly didn't like finding him dead in the Damon home.

Slowly, he stood, glad to turn his eyes away from Richie's lifeless body. "We're going to have to call the police. We can't do anything."

Adam took Ami in his arms, giving her a hug before he said more. "I'm sorry, Ami. There's nothing that we can do."

"I'll go call the police," Jade turned, more than likely intending to flee the grisly scene, but she collided right into Frank, the General's aide. "Frank!"

Frank stared into the room over the heads of the Tomorrow People. "What happened here?" Adam noticed the man was strangely detached for someone who was staring at a dead body in the middle of the Damon family living room.

"We don't know," Adam supplied quietly. Ami was crying softly on his shoulder; he hadn't quite realized how attached his friend had gotten to the young American in just two days. Or maybe she was just crying over the futility of it all. It certainly didn't seem important now to mention the General's file on Richie Ryan. "Megabyte called us, but when we got here--" Adam let his words trail off.

"I'm going for the police," Jade explained. Adam noticed she kept her eyes carefully away from the living room.

As she slid past Frank, the man grabbed her arm. His tone was more firm and commanding than Adam had ever heard. "No one is calling the police. No police, no doctors."

"But he's--" Jade gave a glance at Ami. Adam had to admire the younger girl's compassion for her friend. She lowered her voice. "He's dead."

"I can see that he's dead, Jade, but we can't bring the police in." Frank stepped forward, ushering, Adam and Ami out of the room. "Listen to me very carefully. If you trust me, if you've ever trusted me, trust me now. No police." Frank glanced anxiously at the dead body. "Hopefully, in an hour or so, you'll be able to understand why.

"Now, do you trust me?"

Adam exchanged a wary glance with Jade. He felt Ami shift, and she pulled away wiping her eyes. After a few wipes, she faced Frank, her eyes darting between him and Richie's body behind him.

[Adam?] Jade asked tentatively.

[It's up to Ami, Jade. Richie was her friend.]

Finally, after an extended silence, Ami nodded. "All right, Frank. We trust you."

Adam tried to contain his shock.

Jade didn't do so well. [I didn't think that you would say that.]

[It's just a feeling I have. Somehow, I think Frank knows more than he's telling us.]

Now, why didn't that surprise Adam?

Chapter Fifteen

The pain that pierced his awareness was sharp, grating. He felt every nerve impulse in his body fire at once, he felt every cell shift. He felt the intense heat of the bullet piercing his heart; the fiery explosion from within. The air going into his lungs was cold fire, shocking and piercing, forcing him to gasp. His body trembled as awareness of itself and its unity returned. Slowly the world began to coalesce and reform, memories began to whirl and take shape--

The kid, his father, and Maris Keillor aiming the gun at his chest. Too late he tried to back away; his reflexes were too slow.

"How do you feel?" the voice was unfamiliar, wary even.

Richie slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position, ignoring the stinging and itching of his chest as his body worked to heal itself. Dying hurt like hell; he was beginning to think that reviving hurt more. He looked around, taking in what was obviously a living room. A family portrait on the wall told him that it was the Damon living room. However, a cursory glance around was all he allowed himself. He had to find out what was going on.

"It's amazing, you know." The voice was still speaking. "I never did get used to seeing that."

Richie turned to face the source of the voice. A dark haired, spectacled, non-descript man was watching him with mixed curiosity and wariness. Richie scooted an inch or so away from the man. "Who are you?"

"Frank," the man extended a hand. "Frank Addleman. I'm General Damon's assistant."

Richie took the hand tentatively, shaking it with some reluctance. Frank had a firm grip. "Okay, Frank, what the hell is going on, and why aren't you running scared?"

"What's going on is that you were killed, Ryan. Point blank in the chest with a gun." Frank indicated Richie's stained shirt with a wave of his hand. "Probably by Keillor or one of her goons. Keillor escaped with my boss and his son in tow."

"And the second question?"

"I know what you are. I know about Immortals."

"How?" Richie was instantly on guard, ready to bolt for the door. He made a quick glance at the man's wrists, looking for a familiar trefoil tattoo. Instead, all he saw was the scar of a burn-- or the scar of a tattoo removal. "You used to be a Watcher?"

"Technically, I still am." Frank settled back on his haunches, giving Richie space. He almost seemed to sense that the young Immortal had gone into fight or flight mode. "However, working for World Ex, the tattoo would have attracted notice. I had it removed. Mostly, I keep an eye out for Immortals and Hunters in high places; try to keep tabs on them. I'm not really a field agent or a historian; I'm an information person."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Richie didn't know if he liked this. "Don't you know the rules?"

Frank winked. "We have a mutual friend. I was trained by one of the best-- Joe Dawson."

"Joe knows about you?" It seemed a stupid question, but Richie was not about to trust this guy. Not any further than he could throw him.

"Joe knows about you. He knows you're in London. And he knew you were looking for Maris Keillor. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Then when the General did your background check, I got a little worried. I hadn't been expecting that so I hadn't planned for it."

"Background check?"

"Yes, you wouldn't know about that." Frank scratched his chin idly. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he reached behind him and tossed Richie a clean shirt. "There's a wash room down the hall on the right. Get cleaned up. We're going to need your help to find the General, Marmaduke and Maris."

Richie glanced from the shirt to Frank in growing confusion. "Why should I trust you? I've never even seen you before, and for all I know you might be a Hunter."

"I might. But I'm the only reason Cory Lyle isn't on a morgue slab downtown right now." Frank shook his head, standing. "And if I wanted you dead, you would be dead right now.

"You can find us in the kitchen when you're presentable."

"You keep saying 'us' and 'we.' Who?" Richie decided that he really had no choice but to trust the man. He had to find Maris--before she hurt that smart mouth Megabyte, or went for Ami again.

"Some mutual friends." Frank left the living area, leaving Richie to ponder the implications of that alone.

* * * * * *

Adam looked up expectantly as Frank re-entered the kitchen. For the past thirty minutes, the man had been promising them answers, but he had delivered none. The first ten minutes he spent on the telephone to the States, talking in hushed tones to someone named "Joe" about Richie. Whatever happened during that conversation, Adam could tell that "Joe" didn't give Frank a very good reception. Most recently, the man divided his time between the kitchen, where the Tomorrow People drank soda and stared at a bag of potato chips, and checking on Richie's body in the living room.

Adam wondered why the man kept checking the body. It was almost as though he expected it to get up and walk away.

Like that would happen, he could almost hear Megabyte's sarcastic response.

Thoughts of his friend, missing and unconscious, reminded Adam of why they were there. "Frank?"

Frank took a seat at the table. "We should be ready in just a few minutes. I have to tell you kids, though, you're going to be in for a very big shock."

"I don't think things can get anymore shocking," Ami whispered softly, staring down at the kitchen table.

Jade reached out and gave her friend's hand a squeeze.

"Hey, all right, all right!" The voice from the hall caused all three Tomorrow People to look up in surprise. The accent sounded like-- but no, it couldn't be.

"Who's here?" Jade called tentatively, exchanging a frightened glance with her friends.

Adam would have shared her concern, but he was watching Frank. And Frank didn't seem the least bit alarmed. Good, maybe it means someone's here to answer our questions. First, we need to know who grabbed Megabyte and the General--

All rational thought flew from Adam's head as the impossible happened. Richie stumbled into the kitchen, trying to stop Duke from jumping on him and licking his face. He glanced over at the Tomorrow People with a wide grin, "Does anyone know how to control this beast?"

"Richie!" Ami and Jade cried out in unison, nearly over turning the table as they jumped up.

"You were dead. We saw you. You were dead." Adam wondered if his face was as pale as Ami's and Jade's.

It must have been because as Richie raked his blue eyes over the group, and he registered Adam's words, his smile began to fade. By the time that gaze rested on Frank it was rather dark and somber. "Great, you didn't tell them, did you, Frank?"

"You were dead," Ami echoed Adam's words.

With a disgusted sigh, Richie grabbed a chair and turned it backwards, straddling it. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Chapter Sixteen

Richie seriously wondered how sick and twisted Frank's sense of humor was. After he sat down, with three sets of curious, disbelieving, and somewhat wary eyes on him, and had gotten a cup of coffee, Frank quickly recapped what the three teenagers had told him. No, that wasn't precisely correct. Frank told him that they had found him there dead, probably not long after Maris left. Richie didn't know how or why the three happened to be there; and Frank didn't elaborate on how they had known Megabyte was in danger. Frank wrapped up the story with convincing them to not call the police and wait for understanding.

Understanding that Richie was no doubt supposed to deliver.

Richie looked from one anxious face to the other, and finally focused his attention on Adam. It was pretty clear to him that both Ami and Jade looked to Adam as some sort of leader or big brother figure. And besides, it was easier than seeing the wariness in Ami's dark eyes. "I'm Immortal. I can't die. I can't be killed, at least not by an convential methods."

"That's impossible," Jade objected, then turned five different shades of red. Richie could almost read the thoughts on her face: of course, it wasn't impossible-- Richie was living proof.

"No, it's not. I can be shot, or drowned or burned, but I won't really die. My body will just heal itself and revive me." Richie explained slowly, carefully. He wondered how Mac handled giving this explanation. "I heal rapidly, so even broken bones and internal bleeding aren't a problem."

Still noting their disbelief, Richie sighed. He glanced over at Frank and motioned to the knife by the man's hand. "Could I see that knife, Frank?"

Blinking in confusion, Frank handed him the knife.

"What are you going to do with that?" Ami asked quickly. Something about the tone of her voice told Richie that she had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do with it. Still, this would go a lot faster, if they weren't stuck in that tunnel of nonbelief.

"Proof." That was all he said. Then taking a deep breath, and bracing himself, he sliced up his arm. It stung and burned, and he winced in pain. There really had to be a better way of proving this.

"Are you nuts?"

"Why did you cut yourself?"

"What are you doing?"

The three voices bubbled over one another, with the three teens standing.

"Sit and watch," Richie ordered. He could already feel the itchy, tickling beginnings of healing as the tendon and muscles knit themselves.

The tone of his voice froze them in place. Richie watched their faces while the familiar blue sparks of energy worked their way up the cut, leaving his arm unscathed. He wiped away the drying blood with a napkin, and held the arm out to their astounded faces.

"That must be pretty handy," Adam remarked thoughtfully.

"Not exactly." Richie took the knife over to the sink and began to wash it. He could feel their eyes on him. "I still feel pain."

"Then why did you do that?" Jade's voice was heavily tinged with undertones that said she was beginning to have doubts about his sanity.

Richie turned to face them, leaning against the sink. "I figured that you needed some proof. To know that my surviving that gunshot wasn't just a fluke."

"So, you can just live forever? You don't ever die?" Ami's voice was like music to his ears.

Oh, yeah, like you stand a chance with her now. Dying just doesn't do it for impressing the girls, Ryan. And neither does slicing your arm open at the kitchen table.

"Well, I can be killed."

"Decapitation," Adam said the word softly. "You can be killed by decapitation."

Richie stared at him, feeling slightly ill. He noted that Frank also looked to the young Australian with surprise. "How did you know that?"

Adam kept his eyes averted. "I asked the General to do a background check on you--"

"Adam you didn't!" Ami's indignation rang through the kitchen.

Adam couldn't even make eye contact with her. "And there were some things in your file about decapitations."

There was something that the Australian was not telling him as well. Right now, Richie decided not to worry about it-- besides he got the feeling that Adam was going to get an earful from Ami when this business was all done with.

However, he understood the young man. Or at least he thought he did. He nodded in Adam's direction. "I wouldn't worry about it, Ami. I'm sure Adam was just looking out for you. A strange American--"

"Right." Ami didn't sound very convinced.

"What about the decapitations?" Jade asked. Some fear crept into her voice now.

Richie shifted awkwardly. This was going to be the hardest part to explain. "I'm not the only Immortal. There are lots of us. Everywhere. The woman who grabbed your friend is one of us."

"You mean there are people all over the world who can't die unless you--" Jade stopped in midsentence. Clearly, that concept didn't settle too well with her.

"Right," Richie agreed. "Since forever, or as long as Immortals have been alive, we've been fighting for the Prize. It's said that in the end there can be only one. Only one Immortal."

"You kill each other?" Adam asked the question with some fear and disgust.

"Since the dawn of time, it seems there have been Immortals on the earth, Adam." Frank took over the conversation. "They live, they breath and they survive, and occasionally when they come together they fight; they fight because they are taught to fight. They are taught to fight for the Prize. They live by a certain code, and must honor certain rules, and they only fight in private and with swords.

"Some are good, some are evil. Some enjoy killing. And some, like Richie, are simply trying to survive the Game."

"The Game?"

"It's a really lame way of describing our eternal battle," Richie muttered. "Whoever coined that phrase had a really sick sense of humor."

"When two Immortals meet and fight," Frank continued, giving Richie a glare, "they fight to the death. The winner takes the losers head and with it his power; his Quickening."

"It's not a medical procedure, Frank." Richie muttered. "You make it sound like it's all fun and games, and it isn't."

"What's a Quickening?" Jade asked.

Richie wondered if it was his imagination, or if these three teenagers were truly trying to wrap their minds around this and accept it.

"It's our life force, I guess. Our experience." Richie explained. "Every one has a little Quickening, but it's stronger in Immortals. It's so strong that we can actually sense one another. We call it the buzz, and I guess it's a good warning signal."

"That must be what we sense," Ami remarked softly. "Quickening. It must make the psychic aura stronger."

It was Richie's turn to quirk an eyebrow in confusion. "What was that?"

"This Quickening," Adam gave Ami a cautionary glance and turned his attention to Richie. "What's it like?"

"A first class pyrotechnics show," Richie sighed. "And it's not exactly a carnival either."

Adam nodded as if Richie's words had somehow confirmed something he had been thinking.

"How do you become Immortal?" Jade seemed to be at no loss for questions.

"We're born this way. We don't know who our parents are, we're all foundlings." Richie crossed the kitchen and returned to his chair. That was good for the dog which placed its head in his lap. He absently scratched behind its ears. "We age, get hurt, get sick just like mortals until the first time we actually die. That seems to turn on our Immortality. After that, we don't age anymore, we're pretty much frozen at the age we died."

"You were young," Ami remarked softly.

Richie had to smile. "I'm not that old yet, Ami."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." Richie said the words softly. "I was nineteen when I became Immortal. I'm pretty much an infant as far as the Game. I've known Immortals hundreds of years old."

After that revelation, a silence descended. He noticed that the three teenagers exchanged glances, and seemed to be having some unspoken conversation. The only sound was the thump-thump-thumping of the dog's tail against the floor.

Finally, three sets of eyes turned to him.

"Well, I guess it's our turn now," Adam announced. "We have a bit of a secret of our own."

Richie stared at the three expectantly, waiting.

"Richie Ryan, we're the Tomorrow People." Ami stood, exchanging a quick glance with her two friends.

Richie cocked an eyebrow. Were they trying to tell him they were some sort of rock band? "The Tomorrow People?"

"I think you should just show him, Ami." Adam smiled, and Jade giggled.

Richie didn't know whether to be worried or excited. The next moment however, he didn't know what to think at all. A field of energy crackled and formed around Ami, and he was vaguely aware of the hairs on his arms rising from the static in the air. The field brightened, and with a flash of bright light and a displacement of air, the young woman disappeared.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when she leaned over his shoulder a moment later. "You're not the only one with an interesting talent."

"I guess not."

Chapter Seventeen

"Wow," Richie commented once they had finished their story. "So, I guess seeing a guy come back from the dead wasn't that out of field for you guys?"

"To say the least," Adam laughed.

"Look guys, this is really wonderful," Ami looked around the table, her eyes resting particularly longer on Richie than anyone else. Somehow knowing the life that he led, forced into it and not choosing it, made him seem more vulnerable than even the Tomorrow People were. It was odd, to think of someone who carried four feet of steel around for protection as vulnerable, but she did. "But we really have to find Megabyte and the General."

"Right," Adam agreed. "Richie, you were here last. What can you tell us? Did you see or hear anything?"

Richie shook his head. "No. I still don't even know why she grabbed Megabyte and his father and I spent the whole day following her around." Richie paused. "You guys can't contact him with telepathy?"

"We haven't tried, guys. Not since we got here," Ami looked from Adam to Jade. "It can't hurt."

"Right," Adam nodded. The three of them stood, and holding their palms up, barely touching they closed their eyes.

For one moment, Ami wondered what Richie must be thinking, but she had only a brief moment for the fleeting thought, before her mind joined with Adam's and Jade's and they began searching for Megabyte's familiar psychic signature.

[Megabyte? Can you hear us?]

They were met with dead silence, the silence of sleep or unconsciousness.

Adam shook his head, breaking the link. "No. He's unconscious. He can't answer us."

"You can tell that he's unconscious?" Richie asked.

"We're connected," Jade explained. "We're always aware of one another. We can always tell if someone's hurt or sick or unconscious or whatever."

"So much for privacy," Richie muttered.

"We've grown rather accustomed to it," Ami settled back into her seat. "It's a lot like background noise."

"So what do we do now?" Jade looked from Adam to Ami and back again.

"Maybe nothing," Frank commented.

Four sets of eyes rested on the General's aide.

"We know that Maris Keillor wants something. And it's a very good possibility that what she wants is the Tomorrow People. She probably intends to use the General and Marmaduke as bait." Frank poured himself another cup of coffee from the pot in the center of the table. "And that means that either she will be contacting you, or she will have Marmaduke contact you as soon as he's awake."

"But if she lets him wake up, what's to stop him from teleporting away with the General?" Jade asked.

"The last time I saw Megabyte and his father, Jade, the General had a gun to his head." Richie spun a spoon in a circle on the table. "I don't know how that teleportation stuff works, but are you willing to bet money on your teleporting being faster than a bullet?"

"No, I guess not," Jade admitted rather glumly.

Ami saw the shadow flicker across Richie's face. He looked genuinely injured; he probably hadn't meant to speak so bluntly. She was pretty sure that he was more accustomed to speaking to people who had a great deal of experience with violence.

His next words only confirmed her suspicions. He reached out and patted Jade lightly on the arm. "It's okay, kid. We'll find Megabyte and his father."

Normally, Jade objected to being called "kid" or "squirt" or anything in between. But in this case, she just gave Richie a half-hearted smile.

"Yes, but how do we find them?" Adam asked. "We don't even have any leads."

Richie turned his attention to Adam, a slow, sly smile forming on his face. "Well, my friend Mac always taught me to stay one step ahead of my enemies. So, it's time we got one step ahead of Maris Keillor.

"And Frank and I have a mutual friend who might just be able to give us the extra step that we need."

Chapter Eighteen

Consciousness crept up on Megabyte with the stealth of a thief. His eyes opened first, squinting against the pain that the dim lighting of the windowless room provided. He was aware of something underneath him, aware of the fact that he was lying on his back, a dirty, cobweb ceiling hanging over him. His mouth felt as though he'd eaten a bag of cotton balls and the muscles of his neck were taut.

Memories came with consciousness. His arrival home, the barking of Duke. And his father, his father in handcuffs with a gun pressed to his temple. The woman with the velvety red hair -- the sound of a gun, the sight of the red blood on Richie Ryan's chest--

Megabyte forced himself to shut off the memories and blinked in the dimness several times. He had no idea where he was, or what was going. All he knew was that he was probably in a great deal of danger, Richie Ryan was probably dead, and he needed to contact the others. As his eyes began to adjust to the light, he sat up. Too quickly. The room shifted suddenly, as did the sudden rush of pain to his head. He groaned, lowering his head into his hands. The throbbing of his head banished all thoughts of trying to contact the others telepathically at the moment.

"Oh, good, you're awake." The velvet smooth voice drifted to his ears. "I was beginning to think that Sean had given you far too large of a dosage."

Megabyte peered at her through parted fingers. It was her. The woman with the flowing mane of red hair and eyes as blue as the sky on a clear summer day. He might have even thought she was beautiful if she hadn't been staring at him like a laboratory specimen while she filed her nails with a dagger. If she hadn't threatened his life, his father's life and killed an innocent bystander in cold blood.

Okay, so he didn't have a clue what Richie was doing there. Maybe the guy wasn't exactly innocent, but he didn't deserve to be killed. Megabyte hadn't liked him much; he hadn't liked the way Ami seemed to lose her wits around him, but he hadn't wanted him dead. On the quickest plane to Seacouver, yes. But not dead.

"Whatever," Megabyte croaked. He looked around the room, noticing the one guard. "Where's my dad?"

The woman, Maris he thought her name was, rose and brought him a glass of water. He hadn't even noticed the water pitcher by her feet until she began filling the glass. Megabyte took it hesitantly, staring cautiously into the clear liquid.

"Oh, please, Marmaduke. I hardly think that I would waste my time giving you drugs in water," Maris chastised him. "It's perfectly drinkable. I know those drugs tend to make your mouth feel like drier than the desert. And I need you capable of communicating with me.

"As for your father, he's fine. And he'll be fine as long as you cooperate. Which means, don't even think about contacting your friends just yet."

Megabyte took a long drink of the water, taking in his surroundings. She didn't have to worry about the telepathy thing. Megabyte had the feeling that a telepathic whisper would feel like boisterous yelling inside his skull at the moment. Besides, it wouldn't do any good to contact the others until he knew where he was and what was going on.

"So, who are you really?" Megabyte lowered the glass. "And what do you want with me?"

The woman returned to her seat, folding her legs, one knee over the other. She poured herself a glass of water, and took a thoughtful drink while studying him. Finally, she leaned back, and gave him a smile that made his blood congeal. "My name is Maris Keillor. I was born in 1371 in the village of--"

"Yeah, right." Megabyte nearly lost his grip on the glass. This woman truly was a raving lunatic. His sarcasm was the only thing that covered his fear. He could handle power- hungry scientists and politicians; he could handle fanatical cults. Raving lunatics who thought they were hundreds of years old probably were the most dangerous types. "Like that could happen."

"I'm Immortal, Marmaduke. I can not die."

"No offense, lady, but everybody dies." Megabyte gave a quick glance at the guard. The man didn't seem affected at all by her raving. Of course, he was probably used to it. He was probably even paid to believe and encourage her.

"There are hundreds like me in the world. And eventually, when only one of us is left, that one shall rule the world." Maris shifted, placing her water glass on the floor. She toyed with the dagger, twirling it between her fingers. "Unfortunately, this means that there is either room for your kind or room for my kind. We can't both rule the world, Marmaduke. Seeing how I'm the one who's Immortal, and mortals die so easily, guess who loses?"

Yep, the woman most definitely was not playing with a full deck.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Sure. I believe that you're five hundred years old and you won't ever die. Right."

"Six hundred and twenty-seven come summer."

"You look good for a six hundred year old woman."

"And you are an impertinent, rude boy who doesn't seem to realize how closely his father's life hangs in the balance." Maris snapped. She stood, crossing the room until she stood directly in front of him, the dagger still gleaming in her hand. "Watch and know that you have no way out, Marmaduke Damon."

With those words, she sliced a fairly large rip up her arm with the dagger.

Megabyte recoiled. He watched the blood swell up out of the cut, the dark, deep blood of arterial blood. He averted his eyes, his stomach clenching. A million questions formed in his mind as he realized just precisely how out of touch with reality this woman was.

"Look," Maris demanded.

Her free hand, the one attached to the uncut arm, gripped his chin and turned his face. She forced him to stare at the wound, the wound that didn't seem to bleeding very much at all anymore.

No, that was impossible. People killed themselves like this. Sliced straight up the arm, and the blood would just keep pumping.

But there was no more blood. The initial rush still covered her arm, and some of the floor, but the wound was no longer bleeding. In fact, as he watched, his face held painfully in her grip, the cut began to heal right before his eyes. The muscle and skin knitted itself together, a small lattice of blue sparks and electricity shooting through the open wound. The streaks worked their way down the cut until not a scar remained.

Megabyte trembled as the implications of what she had shown him came to light. "What are you?"

"I told you, I'm Immortal. And my kind will rule this earth. Your kind, will not live long enough to stop us."

This time Megabyte didn't reply with his usual sarcasm. He stared at her, feeling his heart clench in fear.

This time the Tomorrow People might have encountered something that they really couldn't handle.

Chapter Nineteen

"The place looks like it should be condemned," Jade commented.

Three Tomorrow People, one Immortal and Frank stood on a hill overlooking a deserted factory. The Tomorrow People had finally heard from Megabyte, and using the strength of his telepathic signal and a mind-merge at the spaceship, had been able to trace him to this location. He had been able to tell them about their enemy: Maris Keillor. She was obsessed with the Game and with the mistaken idea that those like the Tomorrow People would eventually overcome Immortals. Megabyte didn't entirely believe her story of Immortality, nor did he understand her rambling about "the Game" but after a long talk with Richie, the others did. And they realized that Maris Keillor was a great threat. Perhaps an even greater one than Galt or Masters had ever been.

"Yeah, it looks like something right out of a bad movie," Richie noted. "Just the sort of place you expect a homicidal maniac to hide out in."

Adam glanced over at the Immortal. Richie's words were, in light of the circumstances, oddly ironic. After all, Adam was certain that a great many people would consider all Immortals homicidal maniacs. Of course, looking at Richie, Adam was once again struck by the fact that the American didn't look like a danger or a threat. He didn't look like the sort of person who could weld a sword with skill and expertise -- or kill with the same skill and expertise.

But Richie could -- he wouldn't be alive right now if he couldn't. His youthful face could fool someone into thinking he was exactly what he seemed to be-- a rash and reckless youth. The close observer would notice the other signs that signaled he was something more. These same signs that had set off warning signals for Adam; and Ami, although she was loathe to admit it. There was a certain hardness to his eyes, a certain wisdom that could only come from years of danger and dealing with things that others could only imagine. In Richie's case, a constant battle in which he knew his participation might lead to his death. He was killer, no doubt about it; but he also had a heart.

It was a chilling dichotomy. It was even more chilling when Adam took into consideration the fact that Richie was on their side. He was one of the nice guys in the play for power that "Immortals" called the Game.

The idea itself still sent Adam's mind in circles, and he made a note to talk to Richie more about it once Megabyte and the General were safe. And he had to believe that they would be safe.

"You didn't have to put it exactly like that," Jade muttered.

Richie flashed her a boyish, charming smile. "Sorry, Jade. I didn't mean it to sound so-- well-- "

"Frightening?" Ami volunteered. "Impossible?"

"It's not impossible," Richie objected, leaning against Frank's car. The General's aide had insisted on accompanying them, although the man had a pretty clear indication that he wouldn't be able to stop or control them. "We have a plan."

Jade wasn't convinced. "Maris Keillor has a plan too, remember?"

"Yeah, well, if you're lucky, you guys won't run into Maris."

"I still don't like this, Richie." Ami stared at the Immortal, arms folded across her chest. If the situation hadn't been so grim, Adam might have laughed at the look she gave Richie. It was one he had seen Mrs. Jackson direct at Ami quite often.

"If you guys want to get the kid and his dad, you need a distraction." Richie didn't seem to be able to meet her eyes. Adam thought that was interesting. Whatever the dynamic between Richie and his fellow Tomorrow Person, it would be interesting to watch when this was all over. "I am very good at being distracting."

"But what if you run into her? Then what?" Something shifted in Ami's eyes, a mixture of worry and fear. Adam could feel the emotion radiating from her.

"Ami, I'm not going in there to challenge Maris." Richie gripped her by the shoulders, a lopsided grin on his face. "I can hide with the best of them. She'll be so busy trying to find me that you guys should have no problem getting the kid and his dad out of there.

"I'm a survivor, don't worry about me."

Adam wondered how many years it had taken Richie to polish that charm of his. He could visible see Ami backing down.

"Be careful," Ami cautioned him.

"Hey, I'm always careful," Richie winked. Then he turned on his heel and sauntered down toward the factory as if he was simply going to buy lunch.

"Yeah," Jade whispered as he disappeared down the hillside, "But what if Maris challenges you?"

It was a thought that none of the Tomorrow People wanted to contemplate.

Chapter Twenty

Six hundred years old she was, but she certainly didn't spend much time keeping up with technology. Then again, Richie mused as he carefully inserted a small file underneath the window and the sill, making contact with the wire contact, this was a short term operation. Maris Keillor probably didn't plan on having need of this building very long. Who needed sophisticated machinery when you only planned to use the premises for an execution ground?

The thought chilled Richie's blood. He hadn't liked the sound of it when the Tomorrow People reported what Megabyte was telling them, and he didn't like the sound of it now. He still could not fathom how the woman thought a group of teleporting teenagers would be a significant threat to Immortals and the Game; significant enough to warrant killing them all off. Yes, they were pacifists, but in Richie's opinion, that was a good thing. There weren't enough pacifists in the world--that was the problem with the world.

He wiggled the file a bit more and felt the catch. He heard the soft sighing which told him he had made contact to successfully fool the alarm system. Richie laughed softly to himself; Mac and Tessa had given him the world and shown him a better life, but moments like these reminded him that no "talent" ever went to waste.

"Richie."

Ami's clear, crisp voice beside him nearly caused him to leap out of his skin as she materialized from thin air. Richie nearly lost his grip on the file, sucking in a lungful of air and trying not to fall over backwards.

"Ami, what are you doing here?" Richie grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into a squatting position behind him. He kept his voice low, a trifle annoyed. Not because she had slipped up on him so easily, but because he wondered what would have happened if it hadn't been him she teleported in beside. "And don't you guys have some kind of warning system?"

She smiled apologetically. The smile made his heart skip and also made it incredibly difficult to chastise her-- or to even consider it. "Sorry, Richie. But we thought that someone should stay close to you. In case you need help."

"Ami, you really don't want to stick close to me." The words conveyed far more than he actually said. He had taken some additional time to explain to the Tomorrow People the rules of the Game, and the often time necessity of fighting. He didn't want to fight Maris, but if it came to that…well, he would prefer that none of them, particularly Ami, saw it.

"But what if she shoots you again?"

"We have rules." Richie turned back to the window, making sure his re-route was still in place.

"What if she doesn't follow them? Richie, you said it yourself, not all Immortals are the good guys. And some don't follow your rules." Ami's voice was clear, collected. If there had been some challenge to it, or some worry, he might have found a reason to argue with her. As it was she was being far too logical.

"And what are you going to do if she does kill me again?" Turning his head, Richie met her eyes and the cool logic on her face. It was a bit unsettling actually, to realize that this eighteen-year-old kneeling in the dirt beside him had dealt with enough danger to approach this with such calamity.

"Teleport you out, of course."

"Ami." Richie stopped. He had seen that look before. He had never seen it on Ami, but he did know that look. It was the look of resolve and determination. It was a look that no amount of arguing could erase. Richie switched gears, taking her hand. He kept his voice soft, "It's too dangerous. If Maris doesn't want to play by the rules, you could get caught in the crossfire. You could do a lot more good with Adam and Jade."

"Richie, I'm already caught in the crossfire. Remember? That was me she was aiming that rifle at?"

"Are you always this stubborn?"

"We have to be." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "A lot of people seem to want to protect us."

"Just promise me that you'll teleport out if things get hairy?" He hoped that his voice didn't sound quite as desperate and pleading as he thought it did. He was sick with fear that something might happen to her; that might get hurt, or even worse killed. He would never, ever forgive himself if that happened.

"I promise," she agreed much more quickly than he had expected.

He held onto her hand a moment longer before letting go and turning back to the window. "I suppose I did all this work for nothing. I mean, you can just teleport in there right?"

"All what work?"

"Fooled the alarm system." Richie flashed her a smile.

"How did you--"

"Well, before I had the pleasure of living forever and having people come after my head with swords, I was in a much less risky profession."

Ami tilted her head questioningly at him. "That was?"

"Petty thief."

The surprise on her face almost made up for the fact that he felt like the Tomorrow People were trying to baby-sit him.

Almost.

Chapter Twenty-One

Megabyte never thought he would be as happy to see anyone as he was when Adam and Jade materialized in his holding cell. He jumped up off the narrow cot, and called a low greeting. He was excited, but not stupid. There was a guard outside his door, and he didn't want to attract the guard's attention. "Adam, Jade."

He quickly switched to telepathy as he saw them preparing to answer. [There's a guard outside my door. Maris doesn't exactly trust me. Did you find my Dad?]

[No,] Adam replied with a shake of his head. [We were hoping that you could help us with that.]

[I haven't seen him since I got here. I talked to him on a radio, but that was about it.] Megabyte paused, [He's alive. And Maris won't hurt either of us until--] The boy did not finish the thought.

[Until she has all four of us,] Adam finished it for him.

[We're not going to let that happen, Megabyte,] Ami's voice brushed his mind. [There's a corridor on this side of the building. It's pretty well guarded. Richie thinks that the General might be down there.]

Megabyte raised an eyebrow at Adam. What wa