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Rich was fidgeting. Again. Still.
MacLeod rumbled something, and the young immortal stopped bouncing his knee.
Only to start again a moment later.
"Fine." The Scot stood and then hastily ducked as the patrons behind him began to complain. Rich followed as fast as he could.
"Well, that didn't go as I planned."
"Yeah, man, what a load of heavy BS." The redhead turned his big blue eyes on his friend. "C'mon, Mac, do you really like that stuff?" Opera. He'd rather stick a screwdriver in his ear than have to endure that again.
"Yes, I really do like it, Rich. I wouldn't have season tickets if I didn't."
Rich thought about that for a while. Mac was spending a fortune. Seeing the same shows over and over. Sort of like the 'Dead Heads?' Now, that was a thought. Duncan MacLeod as a groupie? Nah.
"So, Mac, what say we get a pizza and go back to my place."
MacLeod looked over at his young friend. Maybe Rich would like some company? He'd been alone in the States for a while. He'd 'died' in that race in April. Then been seen alive just a while later, and had to leave France.
The young immortal had been on his own in Seacouver for over four months.
"Sure. Okay."
"Great! There's a concert I want to see tonight. This great band. Nuclear Waste. I heard em in Paris. Knew they were gonna go places. Man, you should see the girl they have singing."
The Scot sighed.
They ended up with two pizzas because they couldn't agree on toppings. Rich was a straight-out 'meat' man. And the Scot wanted veggies.
"Help yourself to the beer, Mac," Rich called out. He was busy getting things ready so he could record the show.
"You'll like these guys. They're pretty radical."
MacLeod shifted on the couch and reached for a piece of pizza. Radical. "I'm sure it'll be interesting, Rich."
"Yeah. It will be. Trust me. Hey, that's them." He pressed the 'record' button on the remote.
"I'm getting another beer..."
"Sure Mac, sure."
"Want one?"
"Sure."
MacLeod got two beers. Drank one down. Got out a replacement. In the living room he could hear the heavy metal beat of Toxic Dump. He grinned. Oh, yeah, 'scuse me. Nuclear Waste.
The Scot settled into his corner of the couch and handed Rich a beer. He turned to glance at the screen and did a double take.
"She's a knockout, isn't she, Mac?"
"Huh?"
"Aimee. Aimee D'Liancour. The singer. Hey, Mac, are you okay?" Rich could barely look away from the screen, but his friend did look pretty upset.
MacLeod nodded dumbly. "Yeah. Great." But it wasn't the girl he was staring at. It was the guy in the back playing the bass guitar.
The tall, skinny guy in the ragged jeans and the tight black tee shirt with a vulgar slogan printed on it. The guy with the long hair that MacLeod knew had to be extensions. And blue-tinted glasses that had to be fake too.
The Highlander shook his head. Closed his eyes and looked again.
It was the nose that gave him away.
Adam Pierson. Watcher researcher. Graduate student at the University of Paris. The oldest known immortal. Methos.
The camera cut to an extreme close-up of the man as they went to commercial.
"Son of a..."
"Told you they were great, didn't I. Marc's great on that guitar, isn't he?"
"Marc?"
"Marc Artois." Rich laughed. "Like the beer, ain't that great?"
"Yeah. great. Look, um, Rich, I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
The young immortal looked a bit disappointed. "Sure. At the dojo." He turned back to the TV as the commercials ended. "Too bad you gotta leave. They're going to interview the band after the concert."
Then, much to Rich's surprise, MacLeod nodded and smiled. "Well, wouldn't want to miss that."
"Some friend you are, Dawson."
"What?" MacLeod's Watcher swung around, steadied himself with his cane.
"Why didn't you tell me about, um, Adam."
"What about him?"
"The band, You know, Nuclear Waste." MacLeod looked closer at Dawson. "You mean, you don't know? The Watchers are falling down on the job."
"Now, wait a minute, you need to explain..."
"Adam Pierson. Your Methos researcher, masquerading as a rock star."
"Yeah, right. And what universe are you living in?" Dawson frowned. "You're not kidding. Are you?"
"Saw it on MTV. Rich recorded it."
"Oh, man."
"Yeah. They've been on tour since June. Right after..."
"He didn't run, then."
The Scot shook his head. "I did some checking. The tour was scheduled a year ago. He's on leave from 'work,' and he has no classes this semester."
Dawson laughed. "He pulled a good one on us." The Watcher reached under the bar and brought out the bottle of Glenmorangie. Poured two doubles.
"To our friend, the rock star."
"Yeah." MacLeod took a healthy drink. "Do you suppose he'll ever show up again?"
"If he does, it'll be like a bad penny, Mac. Just like a bad penny. More trouble than its worth."
The two friends drank on in silence.
End
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.