Character's thoughts are in italics, although these are mostly Liza's thoughts.
Summary: An Immortal Watcher is sent back in time to change the past.
Rated R for language and violence.
First in the Corrections Trilogy
A big, big, big (redundant, but deserved) thanks to my beta readers,
Shar and Carin, who improved this story exponentially. Their generous
help can be seen in every scene; without them, this story would have been
finished a lot faster . . . but much less skillfully. Thank you,
Morrighan, for dealing with my spelling and thanks as well to Lauralynn,
without whom this would only be one story, not the three
it will hopefully become, and for sending me all those inspirational cards.
;) This story could not have been done without Janeen's Timeline,
because I am abysmal with dates. To Undo Time
Part 1: New York, 2115
Liza Ryan stared at the worn book in her hand. It's proof;
the thought whispered through her mind. They have to allow a Correction
now. She slowly closed the journal. Horton's
journal, which they had never dreamed existed, much less hoped to find.
It was proof, in the bastard's own words, that someone outside Time had
ordered Darius and MacLeod killed. Someone had interfered
and directed the Hunters to the one person who knew how to stop the Game
and who also had a prayer of pulling it off. With this evidence,
they'd have to authorize a Correction of Time. Both the Watcher and
Immortal branches of Time Guard would back her, if she needed it.
Duncan MacLeod himself would back her.
Liza moved to a nearby computer terminal and typed in her report.
She encrypted it twice, red-tagged it, then sent it with an exultant grin.
To: Mark Dawson, Time Guard Head of Corrections
Mark-
Recently, James Horton's journal was delivered to me. After his
death, his daughter placed it in storage with many of his other belongings
where it was forgotten. It was rediscovered when we received authorization
to go through the storage rooms. I examined his journal, and one
entry suggests that Mr. Horton met with Thomas Melville, under the known
alias of Henri Martin. Mr. Martin convinced him to target both Father
Darius and Duncan MacLeod. The following is an excerpt from the Journal
in question:
". . . This afternoon I was approached by a man who claimed to be a
Watcher sympathetic to our cause. I was suspicious despite the tattoo
he wore, or perhaps because of it. He called himself Henri Martin
[an alias of Thomas Melville, especially during the late 1990's] and suggested
that there were more productive targets available, such as Darius and Duncan
MacLeod. It's tempting, I admit. Those particular abominations
are the most seductive to the weaker-willed among us. After careful
consideration, I decided the idea had merit. Darius is easy to track;
he never leaves his church. As infuriating as it is that this abomination
masquerades as a man of the cloth, it nevertheless makes my job easier.
MacLeod will be harder to pin down. He is reputably an excellent
fighter, one of the best. It's better to proceed with caution, perhaps
not to attack him directly. His so-called Immortal friends or even
his mortal companions are weaknesses we can exploit. Unfortunately,
only one Immortal he calls friend is close by, and Hugh Fitzcairn will
have to be lured very carefully . . ."
Darius was the only Immortal at the time who both suspected the truth
behind the 'Game' and would willingly work to stop it. His death
set back the discovery of that knowledge until fifty years ago when Duncan
MacLeod and Methos managed to duplicate his work. Because of his
interference, Mr. Melville caused the needless deaths of many Immortals
who still believed in the mythological lie 'there can be only one.'
Based on this evidence, I suggest a Correction of the events leading
up to Darius' death.
-Liza
There was nothing to do except wait for a reply. Liza sat in a
nearby cafe, ordered a small meal, and discovered she was too anxious to
eat. What if they decide against a Correction in spite of my arguments?
she worried unhappily, pushing the rapidly chilling food around on her
plate. The Game was stopped anyway, and Darius was only one man
even if he is considered a saint. Will they decide that the danger
of sending someone back in the past to Correct isn't worth what we would
gain? The silent alarm on her comidac went off, the flashing
lights on the watch-like mini-computer signaling that she had a message.
She abandoned her meal in the cafe and returned to the terminal.
She carefully typed in the password to receive the message, then tapped
one side of the terminal impatiently while her comidac ran the decryption
codes. The message came up with a muted beep.
To: Liza Ryan, Field Researcher
Liza,
Correction authorized. See me immediately.
-Mark
Liza stared at the message, then deleted it. The cryptic 'see
me immediately' must mean she was assigned to the Correction; there was
nothing else it could mean. The thought hit her like an unexpected
blow. She had considered that she might be assigned to a Correction.
Who in Time Guard hadn't? But now that the opportunity was there,
it seemed fraught with hidden traps and dangers. She forced herself
to return to the cafe and think the situation through.
If she was sent back, she'd be out of Time. For a mortal, that didn't
mean much. For an Immortal, it meant quite a bit more.
Out Time Immortals lost the ability to sense In Time Immortals, completely
and irreversibly. A margin of safety existed because Out Time Immortals
couldn't be sensed by In Time Immortals either, but being unable to pass
for either mortal or Immortal was dangerous, and ultimately lonely for
the Immortal in question. The only community they belonged to was
with the other Out Time Immortals, and there were precious few of those.
Michelle Grayson's pet theory to explain the discrepency was that the Immortal
soul was divided, existing in two times at once, and that the changes inflicted
on the soul during transit rendered the two types of Quickenings incompatable.
Liza snorted skeptically. It was romanticized thinking.
Sending a person back copied the persona, but the soul? The soul
was a way for mortals to grieve their mortality, and wish for something
better in the "next life." The only evidence Liza had seen that a
soul existed was the Quickening, and that certainly didn't
move on to some mythical afterlife. Michelle's idea was wishful thinking
on her part, and hardly productive for Time Guard. Why mourn something
that might or might not exists when there were jobs that needed to be done?
It was far better to deal with life as it came, and let the afterlife sort
itself out. That's what the level headed Powers That Be had decided
as well. They--of whom Mark Dawson was one--made all the important
decisions regarding Time Guard policy. They were the ones who objected
to sending Immortals back in Time, even though it was theoretically logical
to do so. After all, Immortals would eventually reach the time they
left and in basically the same condition.
The theory didn't work so well in practice. A person who was sent
back was 'copied' by the massive energies of the transit. One of
the two stayed in the present time, the other was flung back. If
the person was sent back again, the division repeated itself. The
result was innumerable clones of the same person, and, according to Michelle,
innumerable times that the soul was "folded back" or stretched thinly between
the copies. This same duplication principle was what made traveling
to the future impossible. To go forward, the person had to be halved,
something which took an impossible amount of energy and a technology no
one possessed. Thomas Melville was the first to discover the duplication
effect, sending himself back in Time to change the past and then sending
himself back again to kill the Immortals who were sent to Correct what
he'd done.
There was another, darker, reason not to send Immortals back.
Immortals out of Time were simply too powerful. They could change
history without being detected, and they could do it for centuries.
Mortals were stranded, the damage they could do restricted by a few short
decades, and they could be killed. It was safer to send a mortal.
Not to mention that sending an Immortal resulted in two versions of a person
in the same time, once the Out Time Immortal eventually caught up to the
Time of origin. Since those first reckless days of Time changing,
Immortals were sent back only under very special circumstances. Liza
thought she knew why Time Guard was suspending it's unwritten rule.
Time Guard was dealing with a very delicate situation with this Correction.
They planned to interfere in Watcher/Immortal business. Any missteps--if
discovered--could renew the tension between the Watchers and the Watched.
Liza--whose loyalty extended not only to the Immortals, but also to the
Watchers, and ultimately to Time Guard--could be trusted to work for the
benefit of all three groups. She had successfully passed her unstable
Immortal adolescence and proven herself capable of handling crisis situations.
She was also discreet. On top of that, she knew the Immortals in
question--and the situation--very well.
She called Methos friend, one of the few who could claim the reclusive
oldest Immortal as one. She had met Duncan MacLeod on several occasions.
She grew up hearing about her "cousin" Richie. Her foster mother,
Mary Ryan, had tried--and failed--to gain custody of him after her younger
sister's death. The Watcher refused to be thwarted when her assignment
killed the protector of a eight-year-old pre-Immortal. Mary arranged
to take the girl in, so Liza grew up knowing about both Immortals and Watchers.
She had even planned to join the Academy until Mary had explained why it
was impossible. The impetuous eighteen-year-old had immediately gone
out and gotten a tattoo on her left wrist, exchanging the Watcher 'Y' for
a sword. She had declared herself the Immortal branch of the Watchers,
giving Mary Ryan the idea that made her one of the most influential and
famous Watchers of all time. With the backing of Joe Dawson and several
other high placed allies, she had converted Liza's impulsive action into
a reality.
From there, Duncan MacLeod had been persuaded to join the new Immortal
branch. His reasoning was logical, and simple. He wanted to
prevent another war between Watchers and Immortals. Following MacLeod's
example, the elusive Methos re-joined, this time as himself. Liza
had pitied him. As the oldest Immortal, he was naturally isolated.
In a place where everyone knew who he was, they either praised his "wisdom"
and trapped him on a pedestal, or despised him for what he had been and
done. Both left him even more isolated. She remembered her
first meeting with him vividly.
===============================================================
Liza knocked on the door, anxious in spite of herself. Methos,
by reputation, was not the easiest researcher to work with. His acid
sarcasm and aloofness tended to drive prospective partners away within
a week. He opened the door, his expression deceptively mild.
He had know she was there before she knocked, courtesy of the spine numbing
presence that alerted all Immortals. At least he had been polite
enough to wait for the knock first before opening the door, and he hadn't
met her with a drawn sword. Perhaps this would work, she thought
hopefully.
"So you're the new one," he said with an ever-patient sigh. She
revised her judgment quickly. Maybe this won't be so easy.
"I'm here for my trial by fire," she said blandly, meeting his gaze
with a firm directness. She surprised him, although the only evidence
was the flicker of his eyes. She knew his reputation quite well,
and had no intention of making herself an easy target.
"Trial by fire?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Oh, yes," she said, allowing her tone to become a little droll.
"Everyone who's worked with you has sworn you're really here to make our
lives a living hell and weed out the weak ones. But I know that's
not true, of course." Her tone was mild, but she allowed a hint of
sarcasm to enter in the end.
"Are you trying to impress me?" he asked nonchalantly
"What could I possibly do to impress a five thousand year old man?"
The irony in her voice was undisguised, and to her surprise it made him
laugh.
"You were warned about me, weren't you." It wasn't a question.
"Oh yes. Fight fire with fire," she said, referring
to his legendary wit and sarcastic repertoire as the the earlier mentioned
trial by fire. He understood immediately, and mock-bowed in her direction.
"Come in; let's get started. I don't want to baby-sit any longer
that I have to," he invited, opening the door farther.
"No more than I do," she retorted, one eyebrow raised in eloquent challenge.
He nodded, acknowledging the hit. "We're stuck together, it might
as well be fun," she commented facetiously.
===================================================================
The flashback faded, and she realized how far her thoughts had wandered.
She resolutely turned her thoughts back to where they should be, her impending
Correction. If she did go back, she'd leave behind her friends and
everything she knew. Most likely she'd end up with them again--but
not for another hundred years or more. The only person she knew
back then was Methos, and he wouldn't have a clue who she was. Even
Joe was just a half-faded memory. Could she give up her life for
a Correction?
It was time to look at it from a different perspective, she decided.
How many lives would be saved by sending her back?
Could she allow someone else to go in her place--someone with a worse chance
of success and a lesser understanding of what must be done? Could
she risk that Darius wouldn't be saved, or even that MacLeod would be killed?
She couldn't. Being sent back wasn't dying; she could make a new
life for herself out of Time. If she could save lives by doing so,
then there was no choice.
She flagged down a skimmer bus and transferred the fare charged to reach
Time Guard from her comidac. How did people ever get along without
the convenient identifying communications bracelets? They were
so much smaller and harder to steal than the wallets and purses she remembered
in her childhood. She watched the city pass by from the skimmer bus
window and tried not to think. The tasteful architecture of Time
Guard with it's huge arches and wide windows appeared. She navigated
the familiar corridors until she reached Mark Dawson's office where she
announced herself to his harried assistant. The man showed her in
immediately, then left.
"Mark," she said warmly, giving him a hug. Mark's "auntie" Liza
had sponsored him into Time Guard. He had risen high and fast, taking
over Corrections faster than anyone had in the history of Time Guard Administration.
She didn't begrudge him the position and its difficult ethics; he was far
more suited to it than she was.
"Liza," he replied just as warmly. "You know why you're here?"
He eased back into his leather chair, his lank form far too thin for Liza's
comfort and his dark brown hair needed to be cut. The hint of shadows
under his eyes spoke eloquently of his sleepless nights. Liza sighed.
He drove himself too hard.
"I have a fairly good idea," she assured the young man, taking a seat
in front of the mahogany desk. "I'm Correcting?" She made no
comment on his appearance. He wouldn't appreciate it, and he was
her superior.
He nodded, relaxing in the plush chair across from her. "You're
. . . uniquely qualified."
She grinned at the tactful way he put it. "I'm the only one you
trust."
"That's about it," he admitted. "This is a three for one, as well.
We've linked Melville to the killing of Tessa Noel and we also want a witness
for the Ahriman encounter."
She sat up abruptly and stared at him, shocked. "Tessa's murder
was just a freak mugging by a punk kid," she protested.
"So we thought," he said with a grimace. It made him look even
more haggard. "But there was definitely some contact between Melville
and that kid. We aren't sure--you know how tenuous most of our evidence
is--but I think it's too much of a coincidence for Melville to have connections
to Tessa's killer. Melville always has targeted MacLeod. Sometimes,"
he added bitterly, "I wonder if Melville is just playing a twisted game
with us. He gives us clues to exactly what he's done. He's
incredibly intelligent, Liza. He wouldn't make this many mistakes
without a reason."
She simply shook her head and settled back into her seat again.
She had given up trying to out-think Melville long ago. "Be glad,"
she suggested. "It would be much worse if he weren't
playing with us."
"That doesn't make being manipulated any easier," he argued, his expression
pained.
"No," she agreed, "but it's better than the alternative." He met
her gaze seriously.
"I hate it when you're right," he joked, breaking the tension.
"It's even worse when Methos is right," she reminded him caustically,
"he finds a thousand ways to say 'I told you so' without ever coming out
and saying it."
"That's because you never respect your elders," he teased, wagging a
finger at her.
"Elders, ha! He may have lived longer, but he has the maturity
level of a five year old at times."
They grinned at that. For all their teasing, they were both fond
of the oldest Immortal. They were well aware of how complex he was.
He may play the immature, sarcastic, uncaring jerk on occasion, but when
it counted, he backed his friends with selfless devotion. They'd
never get him to admit that, however. Mark became serious again.
"Back to business," his tone was regretful. "I want you to stop
the Hunters from killing Darius. Preferably with proof to keep them
from killing again. If you can, kill James Horton. You know
as well as I do how resilient and resourceful he is. Keep an eye
on things, play the Watcher, and keep Tessa Noel from being killed.
Richie as well, if you can, but he isn't a priority. He'll revive.
As for the Ahriman battle, a new break through in the Ahriman research
has pinpointed another relevant person. Cassandra's recently recovered
prophecies refer to the 'deliverer' who's job is to aid the champion.
Our reports strongly suggest this was supposed to have been Darius.
With Darius back in the picture, we want to know how the Ahriman event
changes. Stay close, and keep an eye out for Melville. If he
tries anything, stop him. Try to maintain Time Guard secrecy, but
if you can't . . ." he shrugged. "Use your judgment. We'll
give you a laptop, complete with current Chronicles, funds to set you up,
a list of contacts, and clothes. Take your sword. Other than
that, you're on your own."
She nodded, and stood. He mirrored the action and she pulled him
into a hug. "I'll see you in a hundred years," she whispered in his
ear.
"Fortunately it won't be that long for me, Auntie," he said dryly.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too," she wished, leaving the office.
Her good-byes took a surprisingly short time to finish. Most of
her friends were in Time Guard and knew how this worked. They said
good-bye for her, not for themselves. After all, they would see her
tomorrow, after her copy had been sent back. She was ready to start,
to get on with this Correction. The responsibility was heavy and
strange. She was more used to taking orders than having the autonomy
to decide the fate of Time itself. It was heady and depressing at
the same time. She handed over her comidac to the waiting technician
with a twinge of regret. Her life was written in there. It
was both ending and beginning. How strange to think that in few minutes,
one of her would take that identity back and the other would be lost to
Time. She accepted the papers and identification that was handed
over in and packed them in her bags after a cursory scan. She took
her place in the center of the room, surrounded by the concentric circles
that made up the machinery.
The machinery that would launch her out of Time and into the past was
surprisingly simple. The energy loops and twists the machinery produced
were nothing of the sort. The technology had been developed around
2030, and fear of further misuse had led to the creation of Time Guard.
There were those who had foreseen "Back to the Future"-like paradoxes,
but fortunately the future was safe. Trying to move forward in Time
took more energy than Time Guard--or anyone else, for that matter--could
produce, as well as technology more impossible than the awe-inspiring energy
loops that would send her back. Moving forward was like trying to
paddle up a hundred-foot waterfall. No, it was the past they worried
about, and who better to tell about the past than the Watchers and Immortals?
Liza herself had been one of the first Immortal Watchers recruited into
Time Guard.
She shook the memories away, wondering how Methos and the other older
Immortals could stand being trapped in their pasts all the time. Aren't
they overcome by memories and flashbacks sparked by anything and everything
around them? She was directed into the center of an energy field,
where her equipment had been stacked. The field was priming, the
white energy hummed and flickered. Her Quickening responded, sending
thrilling tingles of pseudo-electricity down her spine. She checked
one last time to ensure everything she needed was there, and that nothing
could identify her. Her sword was available through a reassuring,
cleverly hid Velcro slit in her pants leg. The sword made her smile.
When she was going, they wouldn't recognize it as a sword. It was
more 'impossible' technology, like Time travel. It was made of an
extremely strong not-metal alloy that compacted into a cylinder about the
length of her hand and the width of two fingers. The small sensor
on the hilt was attuned to her, and ensured that she was the only one who
could activate it. It was the new way for Immortals to defend themselves,
and much easier to hide than a conventional sword. It was possible
to re-tune the modern swords to a new bearer in the event that the original
owner was killed, or lost the sword. After all, for everything
that can be done, there's a way to undo it. Holding the sword
during a Quickening would re-tune it, or if there was no convenient decapitated
enemy, one could simply run a large amount of regular electricity through
one's body while holding it. Painful, but worth it.
The hum of the energy field picked up suddenly. Liza met the gaze
of the technician and nodded. The technician acknowledged Liza, and
her fingers flew across the board. The field became blinding, sliding
along the spectrum until there was blackness. It went beyond black,
beyond dark. It was absolute nothingness. An eternity of that
abyss and she was slammed against an unseen barrier. It resisted
for another eternal moment, then she snapped into a small, deserted park
at midnight. Paris, 1993. She had made it.
by Verin Haley ([email protected])
From: Liza Ryan, Field Researcher
Subject: Probable interference in Time. Request Correction.
From: Mark Dawson, Time Guard Head of Corrections
Re: Probable interference in Time. Request Correction.
New York, 2016
New York, 2115
