Title: You Forgot To Mention Hell, Horatio
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Status: Complete
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Category: Crossover with Highlander
Disclaimer: All other characters belong to their respective owners and are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
This is what happens when you get involved with too many different fandoms.
Universe setting: For you Highlander fans, this story takes place sometime after ‘Archangel’ (sorry to all those Richie Forever people). Please forgive me for playing with the timelines of the shows, but hey, it’s fan-fic and I can do that ;-)
Thanks: As always, to Carrie, and to Marius, the oak and the ash to my birds in the forest.

As the saying goes, Adam’s awakening was ‘deja vu all over again’. A gasping breath, the body convulsing with a single, sudden spasm, the expression that spoke volumes of confusion -- all of those gathered had seen it before. It did not, however, prevent the tension in the air from rising another notch...or ten.

Adam sensed the presence of another nearby Immortal from his first moment of consciousness. Acting purely on instinct, his frightened hazel eyes flew about wildly as they tried to determine the source of the ‘buzz’ echoing in his head. The sight of the Slayerettes brought back the memories of where he was and what he was doing there, but it was not until his eyes met Angel’s tortured browns that he recalled just *how* he had died. But there would be time for recriminations and remorsefulness later.

Or so he hoped.

First, however, there was a new problem that needed addressing.

“Well, well, well,” Adam drawled. “Look what the Hellmouth dragged in.”

“Pierson.” The other Immortal all but spat out the name while keeping a wary eye on Angel. But, like the other Slayerettes, the vampire was motionless, waiting to see how the scene played out before interfering any further.

“Steven Keane,” Adam acknowledged, finally putting a name to the stranger.

“We have a debt to settle, you and I,” Keane announced.

“A debt?” Adam queried in confusion. “Perhaps I’m missing something here, but it appears that your head is still attached. As long as you’ve settled your differences with the Highlander, I have no quarrel with you.”

“It’s a pity, because honor will be satisfied here tonight.” Despite the confused look from the Immortal on the ground, Keane took a menacing step in Adam’s direction.

His advance, however, was halted by the sudden appearance of a blade at his throat. The Immortal looked down and then up to find Angel glowering at him. Although the vampire was tense, it was not his intention to fight again. He was only giving Adam time to collect himself before the situation progressed any further. Keane glared at Angel but nevertheless stayed where he was.

Grateful for the brief respite, Adam used the time to focus his chaotic thoughts. It was a task done in two quick yet calming breaths. Once that was done, he used his mastery of manipulation to consider what his options were in the present situation.

Steven Keane. He was fairly young by Immortal standards -- maybe only a few years older than Angel. Keane was tenacious - Adam would grant him that - especially when the younger Immortal believed his cause was a just one. And from Adam’s perspective, the kid must have had a lot of causes since he possessed a code of honor that would put a Star Trek Klingon to shame.

Or a Highland-born Immortal.

Adam had only crossed paths with Keane once over the years, and that time had been a mere six months earlier. Keane had come to Paris, looking to settle a two-hundred-and-fifty year-old score with Duncan MacLeod. It was boy scout against boy scout, and it quickly spiraled out of control.

The problem came not from lack of skill with a sword, but rather from a lack of motivation. Put simply, MacLeod truly believed that he was guilty of the offenses with which Keane charged him. Believing that Duncan was not of the mindset to fight his best fight, the Immortal thief Amanda sought out Adam’s help. His solution had been radical, to say the least. After shooting MacLeod in the back, Adam took Keane’s challenge in the Highlander’s place.

Granted, Adam did end up leaving Keane alive, but only after a newly wakened -- and terribly pissed off -- Duncan MacLeod threatened to take Pierson’s head himself if Adam took Keane’s. After that point, Adam stayed out of it. As far as he knew, Keane and MacLeod had settled their differences through trial by combat. The Highlander won, obviously. In atonement for his supposed sins, Duncan allowed Keane to keep his head. End of story.

Except, Keane was now in Sunnydale issuing a challenge to Adam. Had he missed something, the Immortal wondered? It was a question he couldn’t resist asking, especially not if he was expected to fight because of it.

“Keane, whatever slight you’ve imagined...”

“Imagined?” he barked. “Tell me, did I *imagine* the blade that cut into me that morning at the Luxembourg Gardens? Did I *imagine* your underhanded tricks?”

‘*That!*’ Adam marveled. ‘That is what this is all about?’

Shortly after his fight with Keane at the Gardens began, Adam had slipped on the gravel underfoot. Just as the other Immortal was about to take his head, Adam pulled a short sword from his coat. Not expecting a second blade, Pierson was able to run Keane through before the other man was even aware of what was happening.

While the move may have been considered ‘dirty’ or ‘dishonorable’ to some -- MacLeod certainly thought so -- it had saved Adam’s head. And as far as the older Immortal was concerned, all was fair in life-or-death situations. That went doubly so when it was his own neck in the line.

Underhanded or not, it had not mattered in the end. After MacLeod’s intervention, Adam simply forgot about the entire matter. Keane, apparently, had not.

“Give him his sword,” Keane ordered Angel before turning back to face Adam. “And you...there will be no surprise blades tonight.”

Knowing that this was one challenge he could not walk away from, Adam hurried to strip off the encumbering fireman’s jacket. Although he would have preferred to lose the heavy pants as well, he did not have the time to cope with the maze of buckles that held them in place. Once free of the jacket, Adam raised his arms slightly and slowly turned around, showing Keane that he was free of any other obvious weapons.

When his opponent conceeded the fact with a single, precise nod of his head, Adam pivoted to face Angel. Awaiting the moment, Angel balanced its weight and carefully lofted the sword so that it would come down hilt first.

Which was exactly how Adam caught the heavy weapon. Using the tail of his black shirt, the Immortal wiped off the traces of Angel’s blood that smeared the grip. It was hardly the vampire’s fault that his previously injuried wrists were still oozing, but even such a minor detail could prove to be fatal in the fight Adam was about to undertake.

Once he was ready, the two Immortals closed the distance between them. The challenge was about to begin.

They started off slowly, the two combatants giving each other a wide berth as they warily moved around one another. Keeping their swords raised and their knees slightly bent for increased speed and agility, the Immortals stared at one another with an intensity that was almost tangible. As the seconds ticked away, their circles began growing smaller as it grew time for the impending confrontation to begin.

It took Angel a minute to realize that, despite Adam’s apparent intent on Keane, Pierson had craftily managed to put some distance between the Immortals and the wounded Slayerettes littering the ground. In fact, it was so subtly accomplished, the vampire was left wondering whether or not Keane was even aware of it. Raising a brow in admiration of his reluctant ally, Angel moved off to watch the fight with the others.

Used to seeing the ‘Adam Pierson, College Professor,’ persona, the group from Sunnydale was taken aback by the noticeable change in the Immortal’s demeanor. Adam was tensely focused, his eyes and facial expression cold and calculating as he carefully watched his enemy, waiting to see what the best course of action would be.

“I did a bit of asking about you, you know,” Keane stated in a conversational tone, breaking the intense silence of the night. “MacLeod’s mysterious friend. It took me three months just to discover your name.”

“I suppose the fact that it’s unlisted didn’t give you a clue?” Adam countered, waiting to see if Keane would make the opening move of the fight.

“They say you’re new among us,” Keane continued, unfazed by the interruption, “another of MacLeod’s students.”

“Oh?” Adam replied, his voice adopting a tone of utter disinterest. Internally, however, he found the very notion being mistaken for one of MacLeod’s students quite humorous. Adam’s personal amusement came rapidly to end with Keane’s next words.

“I heard rumors about what happened to MacLeod’s last one,” the other Immortal shook his head in distaste. “Cutting down his own student...I should have taken his head when I had the chance.”

“Would that have been before or after the Highlander had you on your knees with his blade at your throat?” Adam goaded, either unwilling or unable to keep his anger in check for the moment.

“Struck a nerve, have I?” Keane replied lightly. “Funny that you should mention being on your knees. It seems that is where most of the people I talked to believe you prefer being...at least with MacLeod at any rate.”

“Oh come *on*, Keane. I’m disappointed. Surely you can do better than taking a pot-shot at my masculinity.”

“Fine,” Keane snarled, throwing back the very same words Adam had used to open their last confrontation, “it’s your call.”

With those words, the fight was on. Keane attacked swiftly, his movements a flurry of precise cuts and thrusts. For his part, Adam weathered the blows. Nevertheless, he was forced to retreat by their strength, parrying each thrust expertly, as though he could read the mind of his opponent and see what move was coming next.

‘So, he’s been practicing since last time,’ Adam noted clinically. The first blows had been strong, but were nothing he couldn’t handle. He defended and parried with ease, giving ground in retreat while using the time to gauge Keane’s current style and new level of skill.

At least until a lucky move on his opponent’s part cut deeply into Adam’s left arm.

Feeling the sting of the minor wound, something changed internally within the Immortal. Deciding it was time to actively engage in this fight, Adam waited for an opening between cuts. When the opportunity came, he shifted the weight of his broadsword to his other hand in order to throw a sharp punch to Keane’s face. Surprised by the unexpected jab, the other man was knocked off balance.

Adam moved in quickly, taking advantage of the situation to press forward his attack. A rapid succession of blows rained down upon his opponent, turning the tide of the battle as Keane was forced to retreat from their strength. It was not long before both adversaries were littered with scores of small cuts and the blood that flowed from them.

As the fight continued, the upper-hand continued to swing back and forth between the two Immortals. While Adam was the more skilled of the pair, he was obviously not quite at his best. His Immortal healing ability was still struggling to cope from the two painful deaths in quick succession.

On any other given day, it would not have been a problem. For if there was one thing this particular Immortal had learned over his many years, it was how to ignore pain -- both mental and physical. It was simply an issue of mind over body.

This, however, was not any given day.

Despite the romantic, ballet-like motions that most people usually associated with it, sword fighting was anything but. The heavy weapons were quick to sap away their wielder’s strength. Each blow was horrendously jarring. While most of the force was absorbed by the sword arm, the impact nevertheless reverberated achingly throughout each of the men’s bodies. The hard exertions left both Immortals struggling for breath and dripping in sweat.

Unfortunately, swordplay is as much, if not more, a mental battle as a physical one. And like it or not, Adam was weary. Weeks’ and months’ worth of worry over his missing friend had taken a hard toll on the long-lived Immortal. The long days he had just gone without sleep and the struggle in the fight with the Legion left the Immortal’s mind even more tired than his body.

Put together, all of those factors left Adam at a distinct disadvantage. It was a turn of events that Keane was exploiting to his fullest ability.

During a recess in the fighting, the younger man stood panting. Neither man attacked, mutually taking advantage of the slight break to catch their breaths and reformulate their respective strategies. Rather than standing completely still, though, they circled each other warily, keeping vigil against the inevitable resumption of their fight.

“Surely you must have already thought of the one thing that you *haven’t* asked me yet,” Keane finished.

Not surprisingly, Adam knew exactly to what his opponent was referring. The real question, the one Keane was so obviously awaiting, was not merely ‘how’ he had tracked down Adam, but rather the ‘whom’ he had used to do so. And most importantly of all, to the older Immortal at any rate, was the consideration that the ‘whom’ was still alive after giving Keane the location where Adam could be found.

“Who?” Adam demanded tersely, shifting his sword ever so slightly in anticipation of launching the first strike of the continuation.

“Who better than an old friend of yours?” Keane offered lightly with a reptilian-like smile. “After all, she was ever so helpful in aiding me to track down MacLeod.”

“Amanda,” Adam hissed softly. Yet, the way he spoke the Immortal thief’s name was completely emotionless, neither condemning nor worrisome.

“Oh, don’t think poorly of her,” Keane reassured. “She was reluctant to the last. Even her quickening was filled with sorrow over her betrayal of you.”

“You wouldn’t take her head,” Adam said with total confidence.

“Now why would you think that?” the other Immortal countered.

“I’ve told you before, I’m a student of human nature,” Adam reminded. “And it’s not in yours to take the heads of innocents.”

“Somehow ‘innocent’ isn’t the first description that comes to mind when referring to Amanda,” Keane replied, chuckling slightly.

Adam acknowledged the truth of his adversary’s words with a small cat-like smile before pressing on to deliver the facts of his argument.

“Nevertheless, you didn’t kill her, or myself for that matter, while you were after MacLeod.”

“That may have been true then, old man...”

Adam Pierson jerked sharply, not only at the surprising choice of words, but also at the sudden, menacing, other-worldly tone in Keane’s normal tenor. But the change in his opponent’s voice was quickly superceded as time and space began to shift in tableau around Adam. From out of nowhere, a heavy red haze poured seemingly out of the ground itself, covering both pavement and sidewalk like a thick English fog. While the sight may have distracted him for a fraction of a second, the older Immortal’s attention snapped back as the overlaid voice of Keane continued.

“...you must know that things have a way of changing when you least expect them.”

Despite the harrowing events that occurred during the fight against the Army of Legion, it wasn’t until that precise moment that Adam knew his first real taste of fear for the evening. Thoughts of Amanda...of Joe Dawson...of the Highlander himself freewheeled through the Immortal’s mind.

And yet, through it all, there was only one constant that rose to the surface like flotsam after a shipwreck. It was a single thought, a lone name that had been burned deeply into his consciousness over the past few months. Almost unbidden, it escaped Adam’s lips in hushed whisper.

“Ahriman.”




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