HIGHLANDER - SON OF LIBERTY
PART FOUR

SEEK NOT
By Erik
skippyefa@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMER: The fantasy world that is the setting for this story is not my idea. I have no rights to it. That honor belongs to Panzer/Davis. All I am doing here is expressing my appreciation for their work. As a result, I put this out to the people with absolutely no expectation of profit. All characters not from my twisted mind are copyright to their owners. However, characters that appear here that did not appear in other places are mine, for the use of this piece of Fan Fiction.
NOTES: If you find this Fan Fiction entertaining and wish to post it somewhere else, please contact me first. More then likely, I'll say yes. But I just want to know where my stuff is, so I can tell people about it. (Plugging your site for you).

~~~~~

New York, LaGuardia International
February 21, 2000

The jumbo jet taxied with the precision it's pilot of five years showing proudly. The crowd at the window gathered closer, almost as if they could get to the plane and those aboard faster if they pressed against the glass.

It was a few moments before the jet way reached out and hugged the door to the plane and the rustling of people could be heard.

"FUJI AIR FLIGHT 743 FROM KYOTO IS NOW DISEMBARKING AT GATE 5" came the announcement. Deeper inside the terminal, a young Asian man stood up from his bench and walked to gate 5.

The gate entrance was crowded with families, friends, and lovers, all reuniting after long absences. Soon, the jet would fill with people saying goodbye, or on their way to say hello. The young man smiled as he remembered his first plane ride to the states.

He stopped in his tracks as he felt a familiar chill and shake in his bones. He looks straight into the crowd and focuses as he was taught to. The other people became blurry, unfocused as he searches. Finally, his eyes met those of another. This man was in a finally tailored night black suit, with matching long coat and carry case. His eyes where covered by heavy sunglasses but the young man could tell the eyes under them were looking straight into his.

The young man could hear the sounds return to him as he closed the distance. He gave a small bow before returning to meet the other mans shade-covered eyes. "Mikami Sensei. It is an unexpected honor to see you again," he said in a low, respectful tone.

"It's agreeable to see you again, Kenji," Mikami said solemnly. "I trust you have continued your lessons here in the states?"

"Yes, Sensei. And, as you taught me, I have done so without attracting attention."

Mikami nodded as the two of them entered the airport garage. "Well, on to the mater of why I am here. I need you for a search."

~~~~~

March 1, 2001

The hospital waiting room was quiet, all things considered. There was the ticking of the clock in the background, the sound of warm air moving through the vent overhead. There was the occasional ring of a distant telephone. But the most pervasive sound was a foot tapping rapidly on the ground.

"Ryan, would you calm down?" Tom sighed out as he looked to his friend sitting in his chair. "It's not likes it's surgery. It's a check up."

"Easy for you to say," Ryan muttered to Tom as he got up and started to pace around the room.

"That's almost as bad," Tom said as he rubbed his eyes.

Ryan nodded and leaned against the wall with Tom. Ryan began bobbing his head, as if listening to a song. Then, he began tapping his foot again.

"'And that's when I shot him, your honor,'" Tom said to himself while giving Ryan the evil eye. Ryan stopped.

Tom was afraid of what his friend was going to do next when the door to the waiting room opened. A doctor guided a young woman through the doors and Ryan was there to greet her with a hug and kiss. "How'd it go, Alicia?" Ryan asked finally.

"Better then I hoped it would. They said I'm ok to go off the meds," she said with a smile. The good news brought on another series of kisses and hugs between the two.

Tom coughed into his hand, hoping to break them up, at least until they got out of the building. "So, doctor. She's recovered from the ordeal?"

"Yes, a little quicker then we dared hope," he said as he smiled to the couple. "We'll want her back for a check up in a few weeks but, other than that, she's right as rain."

"You hear that, Ryan?" Tom said with a smile. "She's going to be ok."

Ryan looked back to Tom, a smile on his face from ear to ear that matched Alicia's. "Yeah, I heard. It's great news." He turns back to Alicia, kissing her deeply again.

"Well, so much for holding them back," muttered Tom as he turned to the doctor. "Thank you. We'll call to schedule the next appointment." The doctor nodded and excused himself as Tom returned to the young couple. "Um, Ryan? Why don't you take Alicia to her home?"

Ryan nods. "Sure, no problem. What are you going to do?"

Tom sighs. "I have something I need to take care of tonight."

~~~~~

Devon leaned back in his chair, looking out to the city of New York. The tall towers of glass and steel. Finer roads then the Romans could ever hope to build. This was civilization at its peak.

He finished his drink and stepped back inside the apartment. There, with her wrists tied over her head, was the limp form of Angela Bower. She was asleep, or simply passed out. It didn't mater to Devon. He kneeled down to her level against the bed and slapped her face to wake her. Weakly struggling at first, she sighed out as she finally settled and looked at Devon.

"Ah, how the mighty have fallen," Devon whispers out. In a flash of movement, he grabs her wrist and turns it, displaying the purple Watcher tattoo on her wrist. "Not so comfortable here at ground level, is it?"

"Pl...please, just let me go," she manages to say in a tired voice.

Devon releases her wrist and gets back up. "Not quite yet. I still need your...position." He grins as he holds up a thick, worn journal book. "This only tells me up to when I met you. I will need you soon to do your old job, just for me."

"I won't help you," she breathes out with all the conviction she can muster.

"Oh, I think you will," he whispers, sitting on the bed above her form. "That is, if the price for your betrayal is high enough."

~~~~~

Heavy boots echoed down the virtually empty hall. Only a few people occupied the pews as he walked towards the raised alter. The older gentleman looked down at the large open bible in front of him, deep in prayer before he hears the footsteps approach. He looks up apprehensively before a smile draws on his face. "Thomas."

"And just so you know, that is my name right now," Tom said as the priest came around and took him into a big hug. "Whoa, watch it Mathew. I don't want to have to take a new name because a hug killed me."

Mathew laughed and backed out, patting Tom on his arms. "It is good to see you. I haven't seen you since..."

"...Since just before New Years, I know. I had to duck and cover in the old neighborhood while the investigation was going on." Tom looked over the halls. "Well, I guess this place didn't fall apart while I was gone."

"This house of God has many friends, yes. And of course the donation from the Hashimoto family helped a great..." Mathew stopped in mid sentence when Toms face faltered. "I'm sorry. I guess I got going and forgot."

"Not your fault," Tom sighs as he looks back to his friend. "I was wondering how Mariko's service went."

Mathew nodded. "It was very beautiful. Her father left nothing out."

"Except for me," Tom muttered as he leaned against a nearby pillar. "He went out of his way so that I wouldn't be here."

"They still blamed you for her death. And, to be honest, you hadn't been cleared of the charges until you killed William Donaldson completely."

"Devil in the details, Mathew." Tom looks up and down the hall. "I might be stopping by more often, now that the storm has passed. Just don't expect me in here EVERY Sunday. I haven't done that since before the Revolution."

"Who am I to try and break two hundred years of bad habits?" Mathew joked.

"You're a priest. You're suppose to at least try," Tom sighed out in mocking before the two hugged again. "I'll be seeing you. I have to get to my old place soon."

~~~~~

Kenji watched through his binoculars as Tom exited the church. It hadn't taken him too much time find this immortal, already knowing where to look. Kenji's eyes followed him as he walked quickly up the street and to a burned out building. The notes he had read showed it to be his prior residence with his last identity. Kenji marked the time in his notes and, quickly, moved from the roof ledge.

~~~~~

March 3, 2001

"And you're saying this could be the Yakuza setting up shop?"

Myers nodded as he walked down the hall with a few people behind him. "That might be what's happening. I don't think that these people would all come to New York on such short notice for a vacation."

The man on his right handed the file folder back to Myers as they entered the common area. Tom and Ryan looked up from their checker game as Myers group went right past them and down another hall.
"Think we should worry about that?" asked Ryan as he made his move, taking two pieces from Tom.

"I'm not going to worry about it unless it becomes an issue. I have enough without taking more that isn't even mine." Tom sighed as he moved his piece.

"The 'head in the sand' maneuver? That goes against what I've observed of you over the last three months."

"Two. You've only known me two months. And, unless you're packing a doctorate degree I haven't heard..." Tom dragged out as he moved his piece all over the board, taking all of Ryan's pieces. "I don't think your qualified to psycho analyze me yet." He said, smiling as he held up his winning game piece. "Let that be a lesson. Don't get distracted from your goal, or everything will be taken from you."

Ryan sneered and sat back into his chair. "How about five card? Blackjack? Oh! Go Fish!"

"Maybe later. I have to go feed my kitty," Tom said, remembering his white and gray companion, Kathy.

"Feeding the kitty. Is that what they're calling it now?" Ryan said with a stupid grin.

"Talk like that can only respond in a gunshot, Ryan. So I suggest you stop right there," Tom snapped back. He shook his head as the elevator doors closed.

Ryan sighed as he put the game board away. "That guy is no fun anymore."

"Excuse me?"

Ryan looked up at the unsure young man standing in the lobby. "Can I help you?"

"I'm, huh. I'm looking for the Meyers Security Agency."

~~~~~

Along the stark gray of the docks a lone midnight black limo drove. The sun was beginning to set, giving the air a heavy feel, like everything was wrapped in some kind of blanket.

The limo came to a stop; it's brakes making a light screech as gravel was dragged across the tires. After a long pause, the rear window overlooking the bay opened. Mikami looked out at the gray expanse.

"You truly believe this will suit our needs?" he asked the other gentleman in the car.

"Yes, Mr. Mikami, sir. We have already acquired the nearby properties. This will be an ideal location for the new arena."

Mikami nodded absentmindedly. He had no real interest in this business deal. Even though he was making much more in this sale that he and his Yakuza cell had paid for, it never even crossed his mind. This was more a chore to keep his superiors happy so that he could get to the true task he had set out here to do.

"Mr. Mikami, sir? Can I assume that we have a deal," asked the suit in the set facing him. He was nothing but a glorified yes man. Sniveling, hoping to get the promotion that would propel him to management and whatever meager power he could obtain. He had no idea what true power was.

Mikami was thinking of an answer when his cell phone went off. He pulled it out promptly and looked at the ID. It was Kenji.

"Moshe Moshe (hello)."

"Sensei. I have found him. He is traveling to an old burned out apartment every night at the same time. He stays for hours and then just leaves."
Mikami let his brow wrinkle as he tried to guess why. "Investigate the building. See if he has any prior connection with it."

"Yes, Sensei," Kenji said quickly, hanging up the phone.

~~~~~

"Her name is Angela, Angela Bower. We've been dating for about three months. We're really into each other, or so I thought."

Meyers and Ryan sat down at a table talking to Michael Anderson, the young man who had come in earlier that morning. His girlfriend had apparently gone missing and was looking for help.

"The police said that maybe she just took off, cause when they checked her apartment it was clean. No signs of struggle, nothing stolen. Her car hasn't been reported and she apparently called her mom, left a message on her machine. But, something isn't right. I can feel it in my bones."

"Or bone," Ryan said quietly to himself. Meyers shot him a dirty look before turning back to the young man.

"I have a rough idea of what you're going through. We can try to get some people to start looking but, I'll be honest, an investigation like this is going to be tough at best. But we will find her," Meyers said, getting up and leading the poor man out.

Ryan looked at the pictures the young man had provided. This Angela was a real looker, even if she was reaching the end of her twenties. He could think of a few scumbags who would kidnap her but they would have left something behind in their haste. From what he saw here, there was nothing.

"I want you to handle that investigation."

Ryan looked up to Meyers who was standing right over him. "That's not going to be a problem, is it?"

"No, sir," responded Ryan as he picked up the file. Meyers followed him with his eyes as he disappeared. He knew this was his first solo operation but a simple investigation shouldn't be out of his league.

~~~~~

The library was quiet as a tomb, especially in the basement. The only sound was the occasional click of a microfilm machine.

Sitting at the old reader was Kenji, looking through old records and property deeds. He had been told to look for Tom's connection with the building he was visiting every night.

He had tracked the building to the original owners and starting working forward. Finally, he came to the December papers of last year, and the bombing that had burned the building. A William Donaldson and Mariko Hasitomo were killed in the blast. William left no next of kin and his body seemed to have disappeared, while Mariko's body was cremated and sent back to Okayama, Japan.

Kenji gave a little laugh. The picture of William was dead on for Tom. He looked at the available records for this alias.

"Let's take a look, here. Storage space, bought out just after New Years, huh? Might want to look into this."

~~~~~

The large, heavy door slid up, filling the cool room with a dust scattering gust of wind. The sunlight silhouetted a single figure as boots made echoing thumps. The figure hit a switch and the chamber filled with light.

Tom inhaled the musty cool air of the storage area. Of course, it was more than just a storage area to him. He had owned it for twenty years, and had all of his prized possessions here. Against the wall near the door was the clock from his home in Yorktown, still telling the time like it had for three centuries. Right behind it was a worn American flag, with the thirteen stars in a circle, the same flag he had been given by his father. Pictures from all over the world, both black and white and color lined the walls and sat in frames. And his journals, a bookcase filled with his journals from his travels, people he had met. Immortals he had defeated. Tom absent-mindedly wondered how much the Watchers would like to get their hands on those, if they hadn't already broken in and taken a look.

He smiled as he reached over and picked up a gold pocket watch. It was his fathers, lovingly cared for and carefully guarded.

Tom caught himself remembering the last time he saw his father as he opened the watch face. He hissed an intake of air. He had buried his father, his mother, and his big sister after they had all been murdered right before his eyes. And his torture was to live, he thought as he rubbed the scar on his neck, the one that marked in the old Roman numerals 'XXXIX'.

He put the watch back down, face open, and walked again. He came to another table, one with a framed black and white photo of five young Federal Marshals. Tom was the second from the right. On the table in front of the picture where two pistols, Colt single action Army revolvers. Tom smiled as he picked the two old weapons up. Hitting the release, the barrels broke open and hinged forward. Tom snapped them back, closing them then running the guns along his shirt, rotating the barrels before bringing them to the ready position. They were still good, even being unused for a century.

Tom put the weapons back down and pulled a case out of his jacket. He flipped it open and looked at the polished Marshal badge that Marcus Cole had returned to him. He set it between the two revolvers, carefully arranging it to be framed on either side by the weapons.

Tom exhaled deeply as he sat back in a rocking chair, his hands gripping the armrests. This was always his favorite chair. His mom would put him on her knee and tell him stories about heroes and adventures.

Tom looked around the old storage room. Everything in it had meaning, had memory attached to it. The Egyptian scrolls that remained unopened from when he received them. The Buddhist statuette that looked strait at him. A piece of the old fighter jet he had crashed in Korea. The photo of him with the Wright brothers at Kiddy Hawk all meticulously set and arranged. He could spend years in this room, lost in his 250 years worth of memories.

"Your not that old, yet," he said to himself. "You'll only be 244 in August."

He let his eyes wonder around till he came to a more recent spot on the wall. A flag of white with one solid red circle hung back with several pictures and a double set of swords. He had traveled to Japan twice in his lifetime, a hundred years apart from one another. He could admire their history, even if it felt restrictive at times. They simply wanted to keep their own culture and not lose it to the rest of the world. They wanted to be themselves.

"His gaze wandered down to the framed picture. He stood with a happy family, Mariko and her father in front of a beautiful new building not all that long ago. He sat back and closed his eyes. He let built up breath leave his tense lungs as he reflected on his travels and on the items he had collected.

~~~~~

Tom wrapped his jacket around his body. He had fallen asleep in the storage display room. He was glad it was climate controlled or he would have caught a cold...for all of three minutes.

He checked his watch. He was already much later getting to his old apartment than normal. If Mariko showed up this night...

He stopped in his tracks as he felt his guts twist. A buzz. For a moment his hope almost caused his heart to jump out of his chest. It could be her.

But, he had never shown her his collection, and this was far off the beaten paths. He reached into his jacket and grabbed the handle of his sword.

He heard the loud footfall behind him and drew his blade, swinging it around and striking the incoming attack. Tom spun around and faced his enemy.
He was Asian and looked a little older then him but the look wouldn't tell him anything. He could be three thousand years old for all he knew. His look was fierce, determined but Tom could see no hate or malice in his eyes. Just eager. Way too eager. He was fairly new, maybe only being part of the game for a few years under a teacher.

This one was after his first head.

"Alright, kid. I think you need to reevaluate your prey. I'm no push over."

"Ha. I know you're no challenge. My teacher easily defeated you time and again. He has taught me many of his skills." The young man brought a well-crafted katana sword up into the striking position. "I'll take your head, and prove to Sensei that I am his equal and he will give me all his secrets!"

Tom readied and parried a few sharp thrusts and blocks. He moved quickly, knowing that staying still even to return the attack was suicide.

He knew this fighting style. He knew who had trained this kid.

He waited, parrying everything he could but taking a few slashes across his arm and chest. They healed but still hurt like all hell.

The kid made a swing for his head, aiming high. Tom let his legs fall out from under him, landing on his thigh and slamming his sword forward. Taken completely by surprise, the young immortal coughed up a small amount of blood on his lips as Tom yanked the blade out of his chest. Tom rolled backward and got up as his challenger stumbled and looked at him. He raised his sword again. Tom nodded and raised his.

And with a war cry, the two rushed each other.

~~~~~

March 4, 2000

Light from a video projector reflected off the polished wood of an ordinate conference table. Hazy, the reflection looked like a structure of a future city.

On the monitor, an image of a grand stadium on the shore of the Atlantic played to the men surrounding the wood table. Each gave nods, sighs and other approving motions and sounds.

The video ended and turned off. The lights came back on as the window curtains opened, filling the stuffy room with bright sunlight.

"I don't know about all of you, but it sure as hell impresses me. When can we make final arrangements?"

"Soon," replied Mikami. "My company simply needs to buy the remaining deeds and we can begin the construction," he said in a calm and controlled voice.

"This is very good. At this rate the Nicks will have their new playground come New Years 2001. What a party that would be, huh?" said a fat bearded man absently rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers.

Mikami Shinji nodded. Even though this business deal would make him a great deal of money, he had no need for it. If that fat fool had any idea how much he really had he would keel over from a heart attack most likely.

What was most occupying his thoughts was his student, Kenji. He was supposed to call this morning with the information about Thomas's building but his cell phone went unanswered.

Mikami found himself tapping his figure on the table while he tried to think. His student was rash but he hoped he wasn't a fool.

He felt a cold spike of energy course through his body. He grinned as he felt it get nearer. More then likely his student had found a hard copy and was brining it to him. Inconvenient in that he would have to explain to his business partners but he could handle that without...

The door to the conference room burst open and Mikami felt his resolve fade from his face for a moment, but only a moment. Walking strait to him was Thomas Davidson, sheathed katana in his hand. He rolled his chair away but knew that there would be no running. He had his own katana in his long coat draped over his chair if Thomas intended to fight right in the middle of their meeting, with all these witnesses.

He reached for it as Tom moved his sword hand up and slammed the sheathed weapon on the table. Mikami looked down and recognized the blade in a heartbeat. The sword he had given his student.

Tom leaned in till he was right as his ear. "<If you want me dead,>" he said, speaking Japanese, "<You do it your damn self.>"

Without another word, Tom walked out of the boardroom.

Mikami looked at the sword and bowed. Kenji was too rash for his own good. He had paid the final price for it

'And now,' he thought as he looked at the man leaving the room. 'So will you, Davidson.'

~~~~~

Kathy purred, happy in Tom's arm as he lay back in his bed. Shinji-san was in town. But how he found out that Tom was here was what was bothering him.

In fact, everything that had been happening this year had been bothering him. After losing Mariko with no sign of her 'waking up', he had been in a rut but not so much not to notice that a lot of his old rivals were finding him. Tom wasn't one of those immortals that hid their identity from everybody but he didn't broadcast who and where he was either. How did Johnus, 'The Vulture', find him? Was it a coincidence that Shinji-san was in New York with a student that had been hunting him for a week now? No, randomness like that rarely happened. Something else was going on.

Kathy curled up and fell asleep, still purring softly as she breathed. Tom looked down at her and grinned. The little being he had adopted was a savior to his sanity. She had been the runt of a six-count litter.

A runt, just like him.

There was no escaping that something was up. Something was leading his enemies to him. Someone was spreading the word about where he was. Tom thought over those who would know, and among them, who would give that information out.

One came to mind right off the top. It was very unlikely but, if it was who he thought it was, Tom was in serious trouble.

~~~~~

Mike walled down the street to his apartment, rolling his class ring on his finger back and forth. He hadn't gotten a call from the Meyers people and, even though it had only been a day, he had expected to hear something. The reputation these guys had was outstanding; since they had more resources than the police by virtue of their larger budget and smaller jurisdiction, they were much more concentrated in their selected jobs.

He walked up the steps to the lobby of his building and stepped into the elevator, sliding the cage door shut. Angela was heavy on his thoughts. Finder her and now being a part of her life was a God send to say the least. Whenever he was down she was there with a joke, sometimes tasteless but almost always funny. She could calm him when he was excited or reverse the effect. She was the stabilizing force in his world, and he was lost without her. Even when her mystery job took her to parts unknown for unknown amounts of time. Whatever it was that she did, he didn't care.

He pulled the cage door aside and stepped onto his floor, sighing deeply. Maybe tomorrow he would know what was happing to Angela. But then again, he thought with a cringe, he might not like what they find out.
He pulled the door to his apartment open and was about to step in when he saw a tall figure in a rust red coat inside his apartment, standing in the front doorway looking at him.

Michael made a move to back away but was stopped when an impossibly fast hand snapped out and grabbed him, covering his mouth and holding him fast with inhuman strength. The figure looked at him like prey and smiled.

"Say cheese."

~~~~~

April 7, 1974
Tokyo, Japan

The group sat in a semi-circle around the center mat. They ranged from all ages, one as young as eleven and two pushing fifty. All took deep breaths as one sat more towards the center mat in the dojo. He looked at the two opponents that sat facing each other just behind the red lines on the mat. Next to each of them was a hardwood Daito, a wooden sword in the shape of the katana.

The man looked at the two gentlemen about to fight. He himself was native to this land, though he himself had a few things that made him different. The people of Japan had black hair as the norm. His, however, was a deep crimson red. That, along with the x scar on his right cheek, made him very recognizable. That, and one other thing made him somewhat unique. He was immortal But that did not make him completely unique. The two men facing each other on the mat were immortal as well. Neither of them he knew very well. One was clearly Japanese, looking to be in his late thirties or early forties. The other looked to be much younger, just a shade over twenty. He had the face of the western world, which didn't make him very popular. He was gaijin, a foreigner, in a country that didn't take well to outsiders even in the modern days. The red haired man at front looked at the two of them one last time before inhaling and speaking.

"Hajime."

Begin.

The two men shot up from their kneeling position, grabbing the Daito as they came up. They assumed combat stance in under a second, and began making their attack.

The crowd of fellow students watched with more interest then they thought they would. They assumed that the American was just a rich diplomats son who was going to be on the mat in less then a heartbeat. He made it very clear from the onset that he was no push over.

The older gentleman surprised them as well. He seemed to be at the end of his physically active life and ready to settle behind a corporate desk for the rest of his days. But, his speed and precision rivaled all, even the young and energetic of the class.

The two of them continued their dance, slamming the wooden swords as if they where real and their life hung in the balance of this fight.

But, none were perfect in the world. The class wasn't sure if the young man had made a mistake or if the older fighter was just better. The wooden Daito was smacked from the young ones hand and fell with a knocking sound onto the mat. The young man was down a moment later, a sharp blow to one knee, then his back, had him sprawled on the floor.

The young man turned onto his back to look up, only to see the point of a wooden blade aimed at his throat. The older Asian man looked down at him with a sneer on his face.

"<Had enough, outsider? >" He hissed out from clenched teeth. The young man looked up at his face for a moment before slamming his open palm on the mat.

"<Enough.>". The red haired man stepped forward and motioned the older gentleman away. He looked down to the young man on the mat who hadn't moved. He let a smile cross his face and offered his hand to help him up. The young man looked at the offered help and smiled as he reached up and allowed him to be pulled from the floor.

"The red haired man put a comforting hand on the shoulder on the young man.

Tom shrugged the hand off, keeping his eyes locked on the older man as he stepped off the mat. He turned back to the Red haired man.

"<If this fight were for real...I can only lose once, Kenshin-san. Only once.>"

~~~~~

March 10, 2000
New York, New York

Tom leaned against the hood of his car, watching the movement of human mass on the opposite sidewalk. He put his hands behind him and grinned as he looked at his vehicle; a Shelby GT 500 Cobra, jet back and shining in the afternoon sun. After his last death, in the persona of Bill Donaldson, he had made up his mind to finally get the car he had wanted for the last ten years. He had bought a dilapidated one from a junkyard and had meticulously rebuilt the machine with his own hands. It was immanently more satisfying to drive this car then anything else he had before. He could have had the car restored by someone else but he had done all the work himself. This was truly his car.

"Do you two want to be alone?" came a voice from behind Tom. He rolled his eyes and turned to see Ryan coming from the sidewalk with one cup and one bottle. "I admit, it's a damn beautiful and sexy car. But, a relationship like that is just plain unhealthy."

"Hey, you want to walk back to the office, keep talking like that," Tom shot back, grabbing the bottle that Ryan handed to him. He quickly popped the lid off and took a swig, letting out an 'ah' in relaxation after the liquid passed his throat.

"Why did you make me go in this shop and ask for green tea, man?" Ryan asked, leaning next to Tom against the hood.

"Because, this is the best green tea in town. Old man brews it himself, exactly the way I like it," Tom said, inhaling the steam from the opened bottle.

"What I mean is, why don't you just drink coffee like everybody else?"

"For two reasons. I don't want to stunt my growth and drinking coffee reminds me of eating a piece of chalk." He grinned as Ryan looked down at his coffee filled cup. Tom's attention returned to the opposite sidewalk and scanned through the crowd. He focused when he saw the exact combination he was looking for; a fit woman in her late twenties, shoulder length blond hair and a haughty air about her presence. As if she didn't want to be noticed unless she presented herself. "That her?" asked Tom, pointing to the figure he spotted.

Ryan forced down a gulp of his coffee before following Tom's finger to the woman. "Yeah, that's her. Angela Bower."

"Kind of out in the open for someone who was missing for so long," Tom muttered.

"Yeah, I know. Meyers had me giving the area a once over to find her. Then, two days ago, she's just there. Like nothing was wrong."

"How'd the boyfriend take it? What was his name again?" Tom asked as he looked at Ryan, his brow wrinkling as he tried to remember.

"Michael Anderson. I don't know myself. I left a message on his machine when I found her. I talked to her later and she said that the two of them were getting along great."

Tom nodded with a grin and patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Congratulations. You solved a case and you did all by your self."

"Yeah. Who knows? Next I'll be able to tie my shoes without any help," Ryan laughed as he walked to the passenger side of the car. He was about to step in when he paused. He shook his head and upended his cup, dumping the coffee on the street before finally climbing in.

~~~~~

Angela watched as the black car drove off. Thomas had been watching her, which was almost funny in hindsight. She wanted to warn him, to tell him to be careful. But now there were two factors stopping her.

She rubbed her left wrist absently and sighed. The first reason was her oath.

But, her true reason...

~~~~~

Meyers looked down at the files as he sat behind the coffee table, a frown crossing his worn face. There were a number of pictures, written reports and bits of information strewn in front of him. He looked up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping to relieve some of the pressure his headache was causing.

Meyers looked up and sighed as his two youngest employees, Tom and Ryan, stepped into the lobby. "Hey, boss. What you got for us, anything?" Tom asked as he looked at the collection of items.

"Nothing you two need to worry about just yet," he said as he moved items away to get a look at the ones beneath them. "Oh, by the way Ryan. Just so you know, Anderson's check bounced. You won't be getting any bonus."

"I guess that is somewhat ok, considering I didn't have to do anything to find his girlfriend," Ryan said, shaking his head. "If I can't get a bonus, how bout a raise?"

Meyers let out a snort-laugh. "Well, maybe. Considering that you're the main reason Alicia Walters is still doing business with us."

"She's just using it as an excuse to keep you around, you hound dog," Tom said with a grin.

Ryan let a mock laugh out before looking back at Meyers. "So you're saying that you have nothing for us?"

Meyers nodded. "Looks like you two are going to have the next few days off. Why don't you two go to a club or something? Get drunk, get laid."

"Will you be paying us for that job?" asked Tom as he took a look at the pictures. He let his eyes fall on one face in the pile. It figured he would be mixed in with that crowd.

"The boss does have a point, Tom," Ryan said, leading him away from the table. "I haven't seen you enjoy yourself since we started working here. I think you need to drag your unhappy ass to the night scene."

Tom wrestled out of his friends grip and stepped away. "Maybe later on. I need to take care of Kathy and run an errand. Call me on my cell when you're ready to go." Before Ryan could argue, Tom had already disappeared into the elevator.

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck as he turned and walked out of the building and into the streets. What was this stuff his friend was up to almost every night?

He rolled his shoulders and grinned. Before too long, he would find out.

~~~~~

The hotel room was quiet as a tomb, save for the occasional noise from the streets outside. The Plaza was elegant but more importantly quiet, especially in the upper levels. And there were times when you didn't need money, fame or women. Just quiet.

Shinji Mikami leaned back in the plush chair next to his bed. One thing that the US hotels had over those in Japan was space. This suite was larger then a few homes. And he relished every inch of the breathing room.

He glanced at the phone to his side opposite of the bed. He had just finished talking to his lieutenants who were hard at work. They had collected roughly 2/3's of the property they needed for the owners who wanted their new Arena. The remainder was mostly old men who didn't want to give up shops they had owned almost their whole lives. He could understand them and their wish to continue with the only lives they've known. But, he had learned in his 400 years that the only constant is change.

His superiors in the Yakuza didn't see things the same way.

Those monsters only saw a chance to make an obscene amount of money. And, if a few old men have to get trampled along the path, so be it.

Shinji would have to make a report to those people soon. He would tell them that the property purchase is running slightly behind but will be finished on schedule.

And, that his lieutenant, Kenji had been killed.

Shinji seethed. Kenji showed great promise when he had found the boy after his first death. He had been joy riding and swerved to avoid a drunken couple that had stumbled out onto the street. He had died and come back, only to die a year later, at the hands of that upstart.

The memory was still fresh. Tom had burst right into the meeting and threw the boys sword down on the conference table in front of him. The sheath still had bloody fingerprints on it from when Tom took it from the headless body. In that action and words, Tom had issued his challenge. It was only a question as to where and when.

~~~~~

Ryan sat quietly, looking out from the street. He had followed Tom, making sure that he wasn't seen or noticed by his friend. Which was a lot harder then he thought it would be. Ryan had taken a short stint in the Army before hurting his back, but had passed through basic training with flying colors. He had gone through exercises to track targets in almost any environment, urban and forest.

Tom, however, was a real challenge. He seemed to be very good at blending into crowds and being lost from anyone's sight. He would lead him on misdirection and hinted that he was going one way, then change completely.

"Who are you trying to lose?" Ryan asked himself from his car. Tom had gone quiet awhile before coming to a stop. Ryan looked over and saw a burned out building, about eight stories tall. It was mostly brick, so it seemed structurally sound, save for the long black marks from every window going up.

Ryan hid his car away and looked out through a set of binoculars. It felt weird, spying on his friend like this. He should have just been able to ask Tom about where he went every night. But, every time he did, he just said it was a personal errand and ended the conversation. Whatever it was, it occupied a great deal of his thoughts.

Ryan watched Tom walk into the building. He was tempted to follow, but he was already violating his friend's trust by following him here. What was it about this building that Tom wanted?

He sighed and leaned back into his car seat and waited. Tom would come out soon enough, and he'd talk to his friend then. He'd be pissed, Ryan was sure.

He'd have to get over it.

~~~~~

Tom sat quietly, looking out at the street. Ryan sat in his idle car, thinking he was out of sight. Tom just shook his head. He had been dodging people's sight for a long time. Ryan was good but he was no match for his experience.

In a small way Tom was annoyed that Ryan had followed him, but he was also glad. His friend was worried about him. But, he couldn't be upfront about all this with Ryan, not yet. Tom didn't doubt that Ryan could handle the truth, but it would still be a shock. Best to leave him out of this whole immortal mess.

Tom moved from his seat next to the old window and sat on the burned remains of his couch. Three months he had been waiting here. Waiting to see if Mariko had, in fact, woken up from her death. One would assume that a bomb going off right next to you was a violent death. Tom had thought that when she came too, she would come back to a familiar place, just like he had done. When he was shot in the revolution, he had run into the woods to try to get to his old home. But, fate saw to it that he got lost and, instead, found 'Lightning Dancer'.

Wasn't nearly as hard to get turned around in a city you knew well. So many things could have happened.

Tom leaned back, feeling his long sword in his coat. The sword Arcturus had made for him. The man who had taught him how to fight like a warrior, more than 'Lightning Dancer' who had taught him how to survive. Arcturus taught him the connection one must have with their sword, that the blade must be an extension of the will of the wielder.

Tom drew the sword out and looked at it, taking in the artistry of his weapon. The blade had survived with him for almost two centuries now, seeing the sun reflected off it everywhere in the world. But, this sword was a gift from someone who had caused this blackness that surrounded him now. It was Arcturus that had set the bomb, destroying his home and killing Mariko before she could be given the choice.

Tom exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His connection with this piece of sharpened steel was gone. It was just a weapon now, not an extension of him.

He sheathed the sword back into his coat and looked up at the black ceiling and then glanced at the door. He felt nothing. No buzz, just like every night since he had started his watch here.

Tom stood up from the couch and wrapped his long coat over his body. Ryan would ask him about this building, no doubt. Tom would need to defuse this, but he had no idea how. But, that would be later. With Shinji in town, Tom had business of his own to deal with.

~~~~~

March 11, 2000

The gentle ripple of water was the only sound to be heard, except for the occasional knock of the Shishi-Odoshi, a deer scare, a small and simple bamboo ornament. Water would fill the hollow bamboo shoot and, when heavy enough it would tip the bamboo and empty it. When it swung back into position to catch the water, it knocked on a sounding stone, creating an oddly pleasant sound.

The scene was pleasant to the eyes as well. The bamboo ornament was the beginning of a small rock laden river that cut through a walled garden. Exotic and beautiful flowers filled the beds, with a red painted wood bridge leading from one side of the garden to the other.

Shinji looked out at the small display of nature, inhaling the scent of the water. He had come here to pay respects to his student, Kenji. The boy, he guessed, decided to try and impress him by attacking his foe and defeating him for him. His desire to impress his teacher led to his death. He was only an immortal for two years, and he was gone. While he himself had lived on for over 400 years.

Immortality was funny that way, in that it was no guarantee that you would truly live forever. Shinji bowed his head, clapped his hands twice and began to say a small prayer for his student. He stopped when he felt his insides twist and a cold wind across his soul. He looked up and saw a man looking right at him from across the garden bridge.

"<You don't need to worry, Shinji-san,>" Tom said as he walked onto the bridge. "<This is a Shinto Shrine. Holy Ground. But, then again, you know that.>"

Shinji let no emotion cross his face, betraying what he felt right now. This man had cost him a great deal. His student was only the latest transgression.

"<What are you doing here, Thomas?>" Shinji asked.

"Looking for you, actually," Tom said, speaking English once again. "This is the only Shinto Shrine that I'm aware of, right close by the Embassy. I wanted to know why you were here, in New York I mean."

Shinji let a sneer cross his face. "Do I need your permission to move about as I want?"

"You know, there is talk about the Yakuza at work. I work for a security agency now. I just wanted to know if you knew anything."

"I'm not missing fingers and I don't have tattoos like trophies all over my body. So, what makes you think I'm involved?"

Tom nodded. "Well, you're not the most honorable person I've ever met. Plus, your picture was in the pile that was on the bosses desk."

Shinji said and did nothing.

"I thought so," Tom said. "Just so you know, the noose is tightening. If I find your nose in any of this shit that is going down at the docks, I will come calling. Not nearly as pleasant as now."

Shinji turned, letting his eyes follow Tom as he walked away. "<What makes you think you can stand against me?>"

Tom stopped and turned around with a grin. "<Believe it or not, old man, I got better.>"

"<You think so? Sensei won't be around to save you this time.>"

Tom's grin didn't fade as he slipped his sunglasses back on and walked away.

~~~~~

April 10, 1974
Tokyo

The cicadas chirped steady in the night air, disturbed only by the hollow knock of the bamboo Shishi-Odoshi. The steady noise helped those at the Dojo to sleep. That, and being run into the ground everyday helped.

Shinji moved quietly through the halls, careful not to get to close to the rooms that the immortal students where sleeping in. The buzz had a tendency to put people on high alert. Finally, he passed through the hall and into the Dojo. He stepped lightly on the mat and crossed the distance to the far wall. Resting on a shelf was a single sword. Shinji's own sword was much older but it was not nearly as well known as this piece of art. The Sakabatou. This was Kenshin's katana sword. It had seen him through a hundred years of hardship, even before he was turned by the Ronin Shishio. It was a sword of great power.

He drew the blade and whipped it through the air, feeling the weight and resistance. Both where perfect. He was about to sheath the sword when he felt something cross his body, a cold breeze and a hint of nausea.

A voice came from the far shadowed wall. Shinji turned, sword drawn, and saw Tom walk out onto the moon lit dojo mat. "<You where planning to do what, steal sensei's sword?>"

Shinji inhaled as the two began to circle each other on the mat. "<Well, it's not as if he can't find a new blade.>"

"<Why should he have too, Shinji-san? Just put the weapon down and go.>"

Shinji brought the weapon up to a ready position. ""

Tom sighed heavy. "<Well, I think it's clear neither of us is going to back down.>" He raised his arm and brought a wooded Daito sword to ready.

Shinji nodded and charged. The blade sliced through the air where Tom had been but a moment ago. If Tom had been practicing with a true steel sword, he could block a direct attack like that. But, all he had was the wood practice piece. He would have to use his own speed as an advantage.

The blade came back at him, and Tom knocked it away by hitting the underside of the attacking sword, sending the blade high. With the sword out of position, Tom let his fist fly forward and strike Shinji in the ribcage.

Shinji backed away a step, grabbing the bruised but healing muscle. His eyes narrowed and he began a long string of quick strikes. Tom did his best to swat them away but it was too much for his reflexes. A quick stab into his chest sent him reeling back.

Shinji let a grin cross his lips. He stepped closer and looked down at the figure that had been forced to his knees. "<THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!>" he shouted, the blade screaming through the air and slamming into Tom's neck. He watched as the body was thrown by the impact of the blade and fell into the shadows of the dojo.

He grinned, stretching out his arms to welcome the quickening of the upstart gaijin.

But, nothing happened.

"Ah, gawd damn it, that hurt."

Shinji turned and saw that the body, muttering in English in the shadows was moving, getting back up.

"<This is impossible!>" Shinji cried out, seeing Tom stand up and look at him.

"<You're and idiot, Shinji-san,>" Tom said with a small laugh. "<Don't you remember? Kenshin took a vow never to kill again after he left the assassins guild. Look at the sword!>"

Shinji looked down and, seeing the reflection on the steel from the moonlight, stopped. The sharpened edge was on the inside curve.

"<The true blade is on the inside, reverse of the norm. In standard techniques, it's a non-lethal weapon.>" Tom reached down and retrieved the wood sword. "<It's no use to you, old man.>"

Shinji sneered and, with a flick of his wrist, brought the sharpened side to the front. "<It might be unwieldy, but it will still kill you!>"

Shinji began to swing the blade when he stopped. Another cold wind blew through his soul.

Both Tom and Shinji stood statue still and turned to the sound of footfalls on the mat. A tall and imposing figure, his long crimson hair untied and free behind him, stepped into the light, the moon highlighting his x-mark cheek scar.

"<Kenshin-sensei. I saw this Gaijin trying to steel your sword and I...">

"<Quiet!>" Kenshin said in a low, quiet tone that dominated there will. "<Shinji, I know you were trying to steel my Sakabatou. I've been watching Tommy-san's practice tonight and I saw the whole thing.>" Before Shinji could move, Kenshin had closed the distance and yanked the prized katana from his hands. "<Get out of my dojo! NOW!>"

Shinji breath was quick and deep as he looked up at first Kenshin then at Tom. His eyes carried the entire message it needed. He stepped away.

Tom exhaled a long held breath and looked up at the red haired warrior.

Kenshin said, nodding absently.

~~~~~

March 11, 2000

Ryan sat at the bar in the lounge of the Meyers building, reading over a paper and drinking his coffee. He looked up as the doors to the front opened and Tom walked in, with a small grin on his face. "I see you're still drinking the black poison, huh?"

"Here's to my health," Ryan said, raising his mug. "Hey, just wanted to know what old burned out buildings mean to you."

Tom stopped in his tracks and looked to Ryan. "You know, if you're a real friend, you'll know when something is a private matter and stay out of it."

"And a friend will also know when something is eating away at someone," Ryan said, putting the paper down. "Come on, man. Talk to me."

Tom stood, seeming to consider it. "Maybe some other time. Not yet, not now."

Ryan looked over his friend and finally nodded his head. "Ok, man. Ok." He looked down at his paper and let Tom pass before calling out again. "It looks like our 48 hour passes have been canceled. The boss says something big is brewing."

Tom stood in the elevator and sighed. "Don't I know it."

To Be Continued